


The Saracen and the Carpenter

by Elvenheart993



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Adventure, Allan is actually a great friend, Back from the holy land, Djaq and Will romance, Djaq/Will Scarlett - Freeform, England - Freeform, F/M, Flashbacks, Friendship, Growing love, Hurt/Comfort, If I were a carpenter, Mild Angst, Post-Season/Series 02, Return from the holy land, Robin Hood - Freeform, Sherwood - Freeform, after season 2, robbing from the rich
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26946718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvenheart993/pseuds/Elvenheart993
Summary: Will and Djaq returned with the gang instead of remaining behind in the Holy Land. But the outlaws return to an England still poisoned by Prince John and with the Sheriff more determined than ever to hang them. New obstacles, new dangers and new developments at every turn await them, all while navigating the new and changed dynamic between them.Post-Season 2.
Relationships: Djaq/Will Scarlett
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	1. The Return Journey

**1193 - November**

If anyone had told Will Scarlett two years ago that he would journey to the Holy Land, meet King Richard the Lionheart,  _ save _ King Richard the Lionheart, and journey back to a life in the forest to fight crime with more crime with a gang of other outlaws, he’d have been whiter than the flour he’d stolen from the Sheriff. Yet the wooden deck of the ship beneath his feet was real. The wind that filled the sails and guided their path was real. The splashing of the salty waves against the wood was real. And the sounds of a huge bear of a man heaving over the starboard side was definitely real.

“Allan, Much, help him sit.” The soft lilt of the Saracen’s accent brought Will back from the daydream he’d slipped into and he turned his head to see Much and Allan each hoist Little John by the arm and guide him over to lean against the pile of grain sacks around the mast. 

“I’m not being funny, but I don’t feel so great either.” Allan, who himself looked a little green around the gills grunted as the big man slumped down groaning. Djaq crouched before him, holding out a cup for him. 

“Drink. It will help the seasickness.”

Djaq. Saffiyah. Whether she preferred her own name or that of her late brother’s she was beautiful. No woman in the world held a candle to her in his eyes. She wore the clothes of her homeland now, loose trousers and a tunic of pale blue that reached her knees and contrasted her olive skin in the loveliest way. Her black hair that she was growing out curled and tickled the nape of her neck. Still Will struggled to believe that a woman as lovely as she truly could love him in return. She turned then, as he watched from the side of the ship and her brown eyes met his green ones for a moment before she smiled and turned her attention back to Little John.    
  
With Much’s steadier hand to help, he had swallowed down half the contents of the cup with a disgusted grunt. “That...I do not like. ”

“I assure you it is much less disgusting than bile, Big Man.”

“Yeah could I ‘ave some’a that if he’s done?” Allan, who in the span of just a minute had turned far greener, reached out and took the half finished cup from John, finishing off the liquid without a second thought.

“Sit. You will be fine, you have done this trip once already and you have another four weeks yet.”

“And I shall be glad to be back on English soil again, I can tell you.” Much shook his head, getting to his feet and dusting off his hands on his trouser. “No offense, Djaq, but between the Crusades and this...I’ve had quite enough of the Holy Land for one lifetime thank you.”

“None taken, Much.” 

Chuckling quietly to himself the youngest of the gang turned his eyes back out onto the sea. He’d never gone further from Loxley than Scarborough before their greatest adventure yet had taken them so far. Will ran his hands through his dark hair, longer and scragglier now with travel and over his chin, the messy stubble that never seemed to grow further than his thin moustache. Slowly his gaze moved from the sun beginning to sink lower on the horizon, to the figure which sat, unmoving and alone, at the very front of the ship. 

“How is he?” 

“Hasn’t even moved all day. Don’t think he’s eating.” 

“He isn’t. I took him that plate of food this morning.” Much nodded in the figure’s direction, sure enough an untouched plate of bread and fish sat beside him. “I just wish he’d...say something to  _ anyone _ . You don’t think there’s anything we can do?”

“Well we can’t bring Marian back…” Will’s voice trailed off as sadness once again laid its heavy weight over the ship. The grief was heavy in all of them, and unbidden tears sprang back to his eyes but Will did not let them fall. For however much they grieved Marian’s death, it was nothing to what Robin was feeling. “You know that’s all he wants.”

“Yes...yes you’re right. Of course. You know, I miss her, I really do.”

“We all do, Much. Just give him time.”

Marian. Lady Marian of Knighton, and in her final moments, Lady Marian of Loxley. Her absence, though she’d never spent more than a few days in the forest with them, was felt by all of them. She’d risked everything to help them, and given her life to save the king. Robin had lost her too many times to count, and now for good, had to hold her in his arms as she died. 

A sharp stab of grief ran through him as he thought over it again. Will had only just found his love, only just learned that she reciprocated the feelings he’d harboured in secret, to imagine losing Djaq like Robin had lost Marian was too much to even think of.

“Well, speaking of food...Little John doesn’t want his so if you’re still hungry I’d get to it before Allan does…” Much clapped Will on the shoulder heartily as he stepped away towards the rear of the deck.

Ever the quiet and contemplative one, against Much’s philosophy of speaking before he thought, Will just smiled and nodded. He lingered a few moments longer before tearing his eyes from their grieving leader who sat still as stone staring at the ocean and turning to join the rest of the gang. They were only a day out of port, and the journey here had taken close to four weeks by ship. Perhaps by then John might have found his sea legs again. 

He drew over an empty crate and flipped it upside down to use as a seat between the recovering sea sick man and Djaq who had busied herself grinding leaves and herbs into a fine paste. 

“How you feeling, John?”   


Little John just grunted in answer, his head leaning back against the mast and eyes closed as he fought the nausea. 

“Just pray the water stays calm for us and John will be just fine.” Djaq spoke without looking up from her task. Every so often her elbow would brush Will’s shoulder and he felt the familiar spark of warmth that ran through him every time she so much as touched him. It was strange to be out of the habit of subtly moving away so he did not give himself away and go back to silently pining for her like a puppy. Something which he had been compared to multiple times by the lads when Djaq wasn’t around, usually by Allan up until his allegiance had changed.

Allan a Dale. The primary reason Will had never admitted his feelings to Djaq until mere hours before they were to face certain death. Any hope he’d had had been crushed a year ago when Allan admitted his own feelings for the Saracen in the very same breath that Will did. 

_ “You are thinking about one man. I am thinking of the whole of England.” Robin’s words cut deeply, though his mind was warped with anger and hatred in that moment for the bound Guy of Gisborne he believed to be a traitor, he had forgotten to have the backs of his own gang. _

_ Now Djaq was in the Sheriff’s dungeon, probably being tortured and Robin did not seem to care.  _

_ “Djaq is not one man.” Will spat out angrily, his normally bright eyes glaring fiercely at Robin as they looked on in shock at what their justice driven leader had become, “She is a woman. Have you even thought what could happen if the Sheriff realises?” _

_ “Djaq is a woman? The Saracen?” Marian interjected, momentarily taken aback from the severity of the situation by the unexpected revelation. _

_ “Yeah, long story.” Allan interjected, holding up a hand to keep from inviting more questions from Marian in the moment as Little John just scowled at Robin. _

_ “Robin. We go to Nottingham.” _

_ “Now hold on. I agree we need to get her back, but we could be walking straight into a trap.” Much added, his wide eyes flickering between his changed former master and the rest of the gang. _

_ “True. But it’s Djaq.”  _

_ “It’s Djaq.” Will echoed Allan’s words, his heart thundering wildly in his chest as every part of him itched to run towards the castle immediately. How Robin could even entertain the idea of leaving Djaq, one of the lads despite being a woman, behind to rot in the dungeons, was a notion he would never usually consider.  _

_ “Well what does that even mean? ‘True but it’s Djaq’, that’s not even an answer.” _

_ Trap or no trap it did not matter. Every minute that they wasted was another minute that Djaq could be held in torture, and if they wasted more time arguing about it than Will would just have to go by himself. The tension was rapt in the air, and he caught John’s silent and critical stare as he looked back and forth between the men. Allan beside him sighed, and ran a hand through his light brown hair,  _ _  
_ _ “Look, the thing is…” he started and then finished, at the same moment that Will spoke without thinking. “I  _ like _ Dja-” _

_ “I think I love her.”  _ _  
_ _ He’d blurted out the words before he’d realised that’s what he wanted to say. The words that had hung over Will for weeks, that he’d been too afraid to admit to anyone. And then, as he spoke them aloud, only then did Allan’s words register in his mind. In unison they turned and stared at each other and Will’s thundering heart sank right through his boots in the uncomfortable silence that followed. Much’s jaw had dropped in surprise, and John’s eyes looked as though they were about to bulge out of his head. _

_ Will had barely turned twenty, and until now had never had the proximity or the time to develop feelings for any of the village girls from Loxley. They’d been too busy finding ways not to starve, and the memory of his mother flashed through his mind briefly. Perhaps then it was inevitable that spending every hour of the day in the company of the Saracen, fighting alongside her, learning about her, had grown into something more. He’d not been in love before and now he accepted that he was, there was another vying for her affections too. _

_ “Well...well...even so…” _

  
Though they never spoke about it, there was an unsaid wedge placed between the two close friends that day.    
In his own mind, what hope had shy young Will Scarlett the carpenter’s son against Allan A Dale’s charms and cunning? It was Allan who could flirt his way to stealing a noble-woman’s purse. It was Allan who could smuggle any information he wanted through one or two barmaids in the tavern. Will was awkward, and before a woman had joined their gang, barely could speak two words to a girl. Even when Allan was exposed as a spy, it was Djaq who so desperately, and rightly it turned out, believed he could change for the better and redeem himself. So Will told himself it was Allan, if anyone, that Djaq would fall for. He’d been so very wrong.

Even now, he felt eyes on him and looked up from where he picked at the lump of bread on John’s untouched plate, to find Allan watching them. Though he said nothing, his eyebrow raised slightly and he nodded. The corner of Will’s lips twitched up a little as he returned the gesture. There was no bad blood there now. After showing his true repentance, and despite many a frequent jibe from Much, Allan had been welcomed back with open arms. Allan had been the first and closest friend Will had made in his life, and all it had taken was to come close to hanging, being outlawed and running away into the forest.

“What’s that? More seasick medicine?” Will asked, leaning closer to sniff the green mush in Djaq’s mortar as she reached into the bag at her side and plucked some lavender flowers.

“It is for Robin. It will make him sleep...restfully.” The Saracen woman answered, tearing the lavender in her fingers before she added it to the mortar.

“He won’t take it. He won’t take anything.” Much muttered, fiddling with the long thin sleeves of the Saracen tunic he’d been given. 

“Well then I shall give it to you and perhaps you will shut up.” 

Will chuckled and even John opened one eye and smirked at Much who just rolled his eyes. “It is lucky I am not easily offended by you lot. Though why I put up with any of you…”

“Yes yes, we’ve all heard it.” Djaq laughed softly, pinning a cup half filled with water between her knees and beginning to scrape her concoction into it.    
The scent of the lavender filled the air around her, just one of the lovely things that, though she fought every bit as ferociously as a man, made her always a woman. Though they all lived together in the forest, stinking of mud and sweat and trees, somehow Djaq never did. Admittedly she certainly bathed a great deal more often than the men, but instead of the forest smells of moss and wood, she smelt of lavender and peppermint and rosemary, and every other herb and spice she used in her remedies. 

“Will? Hello?”

He didn’t realise he had drifted so far away until Djaq snapped her fingers in his face and he leapt back into the presence, She pressed the cup and a wooden spoon into his hands. “Stir this please, I left one more thing below deck.” 

“Right. Yeah…” He shook his head to clear the thoughts that filled his mind at any given moment and began to stir as she stepped by him.

“Could you be any more obvious, mate?” 

“Honestly, it’s revolting.” Much looked disgusted at him, and Will’s eyebrows shot up indignantly. 

“Oh, like you and that Bonchurch girl?”

“That is...that is irrelevant, you don’t see me prancing about like a lovesick puppy every chance I get.”

“I’m not  _ prancing _ like anything.”

“Let the boy be, Much, you’re just jealous.”

“ _ Jealous _ ? I am not in love with, Little John.”

“That’s not what John meant and you know that.” Allan scoffed, catching Will’s eye, who had stopped stirring in his distraction and making a gesture of stirring with his finger.

He quickly kept stirring, but kicked out sharply from his crate and nudged the side of Much’s foot. “Shut it.”

“All I’m saying is keep the mushy stuff to yourselves, the rest of us don’t need to see that.” 

“Don’t need to see what?” They spun around as Djaq stepped out of the entrance to the hold, her eyebrows disappearing into her raven coloured hair as though she knew exactly what the men were talking about. In her hand was a sprig of pale pink flowers which she crumbled and added to the cup as she plucked it from Will’s hands. No one said anything and Much had the decency to cringe a little. “That’s what I thought. Will, come and help me, this will work quickly and I shall not be able to carry him myself.” 

“Right, yeah. Of course.” He rose from his crate and followed her toward the bow of the ship where Robin sat.

Robin was a pitiful sight. His blue eyes still rimmed with the red of tears that had long since dried but still clung to his cheeks. His shirt was so torn and limp now that it hung halfway off one shoulder as his arms wrapped around his knees drawn halfway to his chest. In his right hand was clutched Marian’s engagement ring and the sole of his right boot looked as though his foot would soon push right through it. He, along with John, had refused a clean and fresh change of clothing from Bassam, the Saracen friend that was the closest Djaq had to family that was left. 

Robin did not look at them as his friends approached, and took so long to blink that Will feared for a moment that he had somehow died on the spot. 

“What?” He said at last. The first word he’d spoken to them since boarding the ship. 

“Robin? You must sleep. You need to rest.” Djaq said gently, placing one olive skinned hand on his shoulder which Robin immediately shrugged off and shook his head. 

“I cannot sleep. I do not want to sleep.”

“This…” Djaq held out the cup and for a second Will saw Robin’s eyes flicker toward her, “Will help you. You will not dream, you will only rest peacefully.”

“I said I do not want anything, Djaq.” Robin repeated, his tone far more forceful this time but Will and Djaq only exchanged a concerned look over his head before she persisted with it. 

“Robin. You _ must _ sleep. Do this for us.”

“I said  _ no _ .”

“She’s only trying to help.” Will added, stepping around to kneel on the other side of their leader “We’re worried about you, Robin.” 

“Do not be. But if I sleep, I will see her, and I cannot face that now…”

“Robin, you’re seeing her anyway, aren’t you?” Will asked softly, watching the way Robin clutched the ring in his fingers, “Let Djaq help you…” 

“Every moment.” The grieving widower replied after a long moment and fresh tears slid down his cheeks. “And it is everything in my power not to throw myself over the side and join her.”

“...Then drink this. Please…let us help you.” 

Slowly, with an audible cracking of joints, Robin stretched out his leg, and reluctantly took the cup from the woman. “I will not dream?”

Djaq shook her head and Will held his breath hopefully as Robin swilled the liquid around for a moment. Bits of valerian sprigs floated to the top. Then quickly, in one swift movement as though he were afraid of his own mind changing, Robin lifted the cup and downed two hearty gulps of the sleeping draught. Will released his held breath and smiled over at Djaq as she quickly took the cup back. 

Robin ran a hand over his exhausted face and tucked the ring into his pocket so it would not fall from his grasp. He fixed first Will and then Djaq with a long stare and what might have been the shadow of a smile in the very corner of his mouth. “May neither of you ever know this pain, my friends.”

She had been right, it was fast acting. Only another minute past before Robin began to droop, his shoulders slouching and head dropping forward onto his chest and jerking back up as he fought the sleep that tried to claim him. Finally he slid sideways, eyes closed and slumped against Will’s chest, breathing evening out for the first time in two days.    


“What did I tell you?”

“You are good.” Will grinned. Sliding an arm around Robin’s waist he rose to his feet and hoisted the sleeping outlaw with him, supporting his weight until Djaq took his other arm over her shoulder and supported the other side. Together they carried him across the ship and down the stairs that led to the sleeping quarters. A dozen hammocks and a few cots were laid out, a few belongings scattered here and there where beds had been claimed.   
Stepping over Little John’s staff as it rolled back and forth with the soft swaying the ship, they carefully hefted Robin into the corner hammock. His bow, recurved in the manner of Saracen make, and quiver lay beneath him and sword in its sheath stood leaning the corner beside Much’s weapons. The bed swung heavily at first with the new bodyweight as the fabric moulded itself to Robin. Steadying the hammock carefully, Will stepped back, his eyes full of pity as he looked back at Djaq. 

“Do you think he’ll ever be alright after this?”

“I cannot say. How could any of us know? We all of us have lost people we love but never a…”

“Yeah. Stupid question, I know.” 

“But sleep will help him. Come, sit with me.” She took his hand in her small one, intertwining their fingers and led him to the foot of the stairs.   
It was just wide enough for two bodies they sat together, side to side and joined hands resting on Will’s leg, in companionable silence for a few moments before she turned a little and rested her chin against his shoulder. A pleasant tingle ran up and down Will’s side where their bodies touched. It was still all so new to him, new and exciting and a feeling that he’d never had before. But at the same time he didn’t know how much would change now. Before they were just a gang of outlaws, friends, stealing from the rich and giving hope and food to the poor. Will loved that life, had fought tooth and nail not to be taken from it when his father had come to take him home, but it was a dangerous one. They had all had their turn in the Sheriff’s dungeons, even on the gallows, Will had been up there twice himself, and always, every day they were willing to die for Robin and justice. Now he had so much more to lose, so much more reason to fear for her safety more than his own.

He turned and pressed his lips to her hair, tasting the salt of the sea spray there.

“Bassam spoke to me before we left.” He spoke suddenly, and Djaq lifted her head to look at him, “Made me promise to look after you. Protect you.”

“He did? And what did you say?”

“That you don’t need protection.” He smiled when she laughed, a delicate sound that she would hate to hear sounded so terribly feminine. 

“Good answer, Will Scarlett.”


	2. A Storm in the Night

“Calm?! I’ve been calmer when I’m running for my life!” The enormous crash of Little John hurtling into the side of the cabins with several crates of supplies echoed below decks. Above them the crew were shouting, screaming orders and slipped back and forth on the deck as they battled to keep the ship steady. Another loud thump was Much toppling from his hammock, and a loud piercing scrape of wood on wood as Robin thrust his bow into the doorway, wedging it in to keep his feet. 

Allan groaned loudly, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the floor right at Djaq’s feet who yelled in disgust and stepped over the pickpocket where he knelt. The ship gave another great lurch, sending everyone in the cabin staggering, and rolling to the port side.

“We’re gonna die! I’ve survived a Crusade! I’ve survived the Sheriff! I’ve survived the desert and I’m gonna die on my way home!” Much’s panicked yells shrieked through the room, still barely loud enough to be heard above the storm raging and the waves crashing. 

“Much! Shut up!” Three distinct voices shouted in unison as the ship lurched up and down, riding the waves to the best of its craftsmanship. Losing his grip on the beam he clung to for balance, Will fell backwards, sliding down the deck and crashing into the corner, he ducked and covered his head just in time to avoid the barrel that came crashing toward him. 

“No one’s going to die! It’s just a storm!” Robin shouted, slowly clawing his way between the rows of hammocks towards the stairs. 

“Just a storm! Just a storm! It’s a bloody typhoon!” Allan fumbled to regain some sort of balance, greener than even Little John had been the first day on the sea. Clutching at what he thought was a plank of wood, he started to drag himself up only for his crutch to scream and come tumbling down on top of him. 

“That’s my leg, you idiot!” Djaq shouted, as she and Allan both wrestled themselves back to a somewhat standing position. “The weapons! Watch your feet.” 

Right on cue, with the forceful strike of another wave, the fierce clanging of metal cartwheeled between Much and Robin, missing them by an inch and somersaulting right towards Will in the corner.

“Duck!” 

No sooner had the axe-wielder staggered to his feet against the wall then he threw himself to the floor again, his own weapon lodging itself deep into the wood of the ship where his head had been, 

“I’m not being funny but being beheaded by your own axe would have been ironic, wouldn’t it?”

“Nothing about this is funny, Allan!” John screamed, seizing the moment of brief relief to charge headlong towards the stairs and gripping the doorway hard with his strong arms. With the free hand he held out his staff, reaching for the nearest person to grab on. 

Robin did so, steeling himself against the next blow of the waves and dragging himself up and out towards the decks. Djaq was next, her slight frame hardly managing any sort of resistance against the buffeting of the weather and John flung his arm hard, swinging her forward and into Robin’s hands. Then Much, and Allan followed, Will last, still considerably shaken from how close he had come from losing his head. 

It was little better up on deck. Rain pelted them hard as hailstones, every inch of the vessel was drenched, one sail had come loose and another torn in the wind. Lightning lit the sky as brightly as day and with every rock of the boat, the sea spray splashed over the deck. 

“Will!” Robin shouted over the wind, pulling Will forward and pointing up at the centre mast. “That splintered wood will tear the sail, think you can get up there?!”

Sure enough, one of the beams of the centre mast that supported the mainsail had broken in the wind. It flew wildly back and forth while the crew on deck and halfway up the sail fought to steady it. With each toss of the waves and violent gust of wind the fabric blew dangerously close to the sharp splintered edges. With the front sail already torn in two, if they lost another the ship would pitch dangerously close to the waves.   
Will reached for his belt. His small, single handed axe that he kept strapped there had not fallen out below decks. Swallowing back the terror and knowing that he could get through the splintered wood if he could manage the climb he nodded. 

Despite his violent nausea, Little John was the sturdiest man on board, the only one whose size would help him keep his feet. Staggering across the deck with Much and Djaq close behind he bellowed to the crew to toss him the rope. Anchoring himself as firmly as he could he pulled the rope taut, steadying the flailing enough to enable someone quick enough to climb. 

“Be careful!” Will heard Djaq shout over the wind as he and Robin grabbed firmly onto the mast, steeling themselves against the monstrous wave that pounded the starboard side of the ship. Nearly losing his grip, only to be saved by Robin reaching out and throwing an arm around his chest Will let out a long nervous breath and looked up. He snatched at a rope as he blew by and with a serious nod from Robin, tightened his grip and began to climb. It was the same as scaling the castle walls really, or any of one of the hundreds of escape methods they’d used over the years that involved climbing. Except that the castle walls did not sway violently in the wind, and there were no waves waiting to strike with enough force to send him flying into the ocean. 

Every muscle in his arms ached as he scrambled hand over hand up the rope, high, too high above the deck until he found the first foothold. He paused, resting his arms for a moment and throwing his arms as far around the mast as he could to support himself. 

He dared a look up, squinting hard against the rain. He wasn’t high enough yet.

Never again. When they landed in Portsmouth, Will never wanted to cross the sea again. He’d sooner walk back to the Holy Land. Gripping the rope tightly he resumed his ascent up the ship. Five, size, seven more solid pulls that carried him high enough. If he leaned just a little further to the right, he could reach the broken wood. But that would mean releasing the rope. Don’t look down. Getting his feet on the boom was the easy part.  _ Keeping _ them there was another thing. 

Eding back to mast, Will wrapped his legs as tightly as he could around the wood, and not a moment too soon. Someone shouted something below him, and a moment later a terrifyingly loud clap of thunder overhead made him let go of the rope. Lightning flashed the moment he looked down, illuminating for a second the wide eyed faces of his friends. John, straining with the effort of holding the sail still, the combined strength of Allan, Much and Djaq on the other side supporting him and Robin, frantically waving a rope towards Will to grab.

Breath coming short and fast, Will tugged his axe from it’s loop on his belt and leaned, putting all his strength into his legs to hold himself somewhat securely as he reached out with his right hand, angling the axe to get the job done as quickly as possible. One, two, three short sharp hacks and a piece of splintered wood dropped and immediately blew away in the wind. He leaned further, another inch to the right and pain shot up and down his sides at the stretch. One, two, three, four more blows with the axe and the rest of the damaged wood fell away, no longer a danger of tearing the sail. Moving the axe perilously in his hand so he held the blunt side of the blade he scraped and smoothed out the tiny splinters of wood as best he could. The ship lurched and the tool fell like a stone from his hand as he shouted and madly made a grab for the mast. 

He was going to die. Much was right. He was going to die on the way back to England from falling from a mast in a storm after surviving far worse things. He couldn’t hold on much longer. The wood was too wet to keep a hold on and his knees were beginning to give out. 

Then something struck the back of his head, something solid and heavy that made him dare to look around. 

“Will! Catch it!” 

Then he saw it, the second time it swung around, the rope he’d let go of earlier hurtle back towards him.With the last of his strength he leaned backwards, grasping onto the rope just as his legs gave out and he swung backwards away from the mast. 

It was less of a climb and more of a slide and he scrambled as fast as he could in the rain down the rope, the harsh fibres tearing at his palms as he slid back towards the deck. He hit the planks hard, lost his footing and fell on his back with an exhausted sigh. 

“Will! Are you alright?!” And then Robin was at his side, grabbing his hand and hauling him up to his unsteady legs. He was smiling, beaming so widely that for a moment he looked like his old self. “Well done!” 

“I’m fine…” Will nodded, chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to suppress the complete panic he’d just experienced a moment ago. With a loud roar, John let go, letting the rest of the crew move in to tie off the rope. The wind suddenly did not seem so wild now Will was back on the ship, with flooring beneath his feet. 

“If we’re all safely back on the boat...you won’t mind if I just…” Allan tore away from the group, throwing himself onto the edge of the boat and emptying his stomach over the side. 

“Allan! No!” Djaq tore away after him, placing her hands on the back of Allan’s vest and pulling him backwards just as the boat rocked so fiercely that if she had been a moment later, Allan would have been in the sea. 

Still slipping and sliding through the water that splashed around their feet, the storm did not seem so harsh. The ship, though still rocking fiercely from side to side, seemed to plough forward through the waves that fought against it. Allan groaned, collapsed in a heap at the side of the boat as Djaq ran to Will, She threw her arms around him and it was all he could do not to drop to his knees he was so spent. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine, it was nothin’.” He shook his head, taking her hand and flashing a quick and tired smile at her.

“It has only been a week. Another three weeks of this? I might have rather died in the sun anyway!” Much shouted, grabbing tightly onto a fresh water barrel to steady himself, his soft cap long since blown from his head and lost in the sea.

“Ships are made to withstand greater storms than this, Much. And so, my friend, are you.” Robin cried back, “It will pass!” 

And in time it did. The wind quietened, taming the waves within the hour until the ship could once again raise over them. The crew scurried back and forth, bailing the inches of water that had covered the decks with wooden buckets and salvaging the cargo that had not been thrown overboard. The rain lessened, and the tossing of the great vessel to-and-fro did not seem so harsh. The clattering of barrels and sword and crates below ceased as things began to settle again, 

Weary and soaked to the skin, they all dropped heavily to the decks. Little John sprawled out on his back, his long shaggy hair plastered to his face as he fought to catch his breath. Allan, with assistance from Robin lay on his left side recovering from the violent bouts of nausea that had overtaken him, Will collapsed to lean against the mast he had scaled not long ago with Much on his left side. Robin and Djaq alone still stood, though they were both shaking from head to toe.

“So…I suppose a career change from outlaws to pirates is out of the question?”

Tired laughter scattered around the group at Robin’s well timed quip and even Allan managed an ill looking grin. The sun was barely beginning to rise on the horizon, casting a cool purple haze of light across the water and bathing the worn faces of the seafarers in an eerie glow. 

“I guess that is this month’s bath sorted.”

“It does not matter how used to it I might be, you men will always disgust me.” Djaq turned up her nose and rolled her eyes while the others just laughed. “But it is true, at least now you stink of salt and not of sweat.”

“Well…” Much sighed, pulling himself to his feet and wringing out the bottom of his tunic against the deck. “I am going in search of  _ dry _ blankets, if we didn’t drown then pneumonia will kill us all.”

“I tell ya what, good thing Much is here or who would imagine all the ways we’re going to die?” Will smirked a little, shaking his head as Much disappeared back into the hold.

“The sun will soon rise and dry us all.” Djaq added, making her way over to check on Allan’s well being who just groaned and closed his eyes. “You will be fine now the swaying has stopped. Only three more weeks.”

“Three weeks too long. Turn around, let’s just go back to Acre.” 

Djaq laughed again and Will’s lips twitched upwards at the sound as he watched her tending to their ill friend. That old pang of jealousy raised its head once more against his will. He didn’t even know if Allan still harboured feelings for the Saracen, and even if he did, their friendship was too strong for Allan to try to sabotage what Will had been so lucky to find. So it was unwarranted really, but nevertheless the protective urge to whisk her away was still there.

He rose on legs that still wavered beneath him for a moment, swaying with phantom waves that were not really there, and stepped away to look out over the stern.

_ “Hey, you never said how you knew.” _

_ “How I knew what?” Will looked up briefly from the arrow shaft he was carefully whittling as Allan dropped down on the rock beside him and threw a careful look over his shoulder.  _

_ "That the Saracen’s a girl.” Allan hissed, mindful of the rest of the gang, and their newest member, talking around Much’s fire within hearing distance. “How’d you know? It’s not like the…you know...chest area is particularly obvious.”  _

_ “Because that’s the only way to tell the difference?” His face burnt hot, redness rising very rapidly to his cheeks and he fixed his gaze firmly on the arrow and hoped that Allan wouldn’t be able to see his embarrassment and know that was exactly how he’d found out.  _

_ “Well...the most obvious one anyway. How’d you kn-”  _

_ Allan went quiet and Will stilled his scraping movements with the axe as footsteps crunched across the leaves towards them. He kept his head down, the last thing he needed was anyone else to overhear this conversation. John stepped past, sparing only a quick glance in their direction as he trudged by and disappeared into the trees. _

_ “Gonna be weird having a girl around, you might actually have to watch that blathering rude mouth of yours.” Allan joked, nudging Will with his shoulder and sighing when he didn’t get the reaction he was hoping for. “Alright, only joking. So, how’d you figure it out?” _

_ "Can we not...talk about this? Djaq’s a woman, she’s in the gang, end of story.”  _

_ "...Hang on…”  _

_ And try as he did to avoid it, Allan grabbed his shoulder and hauled him up until he could read the redness all over Will’s face. A grin slowly started to spread over his face and he started to laugh. “You’re as scarlet as your own name, you saw her didn’t you?” _

_ “Shut up!” Will hissed, shoving Allan away with a heavy sigh and looking furtively over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t about to be overheard. “Yeah, okay? They all went to wash, Robin told me to tell ‘em that we were going, and I assumed Djaq was gonna be with the others...I thought it was a guy and it wouldn’t matter.”  _

_ He’d been so flustered and shocked in that moment that he could still see her, still feel the sting of the branches as they flung back hard into his face. But he could hardly be blamed for being flustered, it wasn’t as though he’d seen a naked woman before. He’d barely talked to girls back in Loxley at all.  _

_ Allan burst out laughing. “Look at your face! Oh poor little Will...you know I keep forgetting how blasted innocent you are. Must have been the shock of your life.”  _

_ "I said, shut it!” With a harder shove this time Allan toppled onto the forest floor, still laughing a little too loudly at Will’s expense. “Shut up, she already thinks I was spying.” _

_ "Which you wouldn’t do because Will Scarlett is far too moral for that.” _

_ "Exactly.” Will hissed, and resumed smoothing out the sides of the arrow. _

_ “Alright, alright...I’m sorry. I’ll let it go.” Stifling his laughter to a few teasing chuckles, Allan picked himself up and brushed the leaves from his legs. “I just wanted to know because I couldn’t tell. It’ll be good. We could do with having a medic around.” _

“Are you alright?” A soft hand on his back brought Will back to the present. Djaq stood there, the rising sun making her dark skin glow bronze in the morning light, “You were very brave to climb in those conditions.”

“Well, it’s not much less dangerous than the rest of our lives are.” Will smiled, and looked down at his hands, opening and closing his red raw palms. “I’m fine though. No braver than anyone else here is.”

“Your modesty does you credit, Will. But something is bothering you. Will you tell me?”

“Nothing’s bothering me.” 

“You never have been able to lie to me before, what makes you think I believe you now?” 

A soft chuckle slipped past his lips as he looked down into her wide brown eyes that firmly held his with a determination that would not be denied. “Alright.” 

Together they slipped away, passing Much on the stairs to the hold and having two dry albeit worse for wear blankets pushed into their arms. Djaq, still soaking wet, immediately wrapped hers around herself and, in a movement that Will was sure was a newly awoken old habit, drew it over her head to cover her hair. She seemed to realise after a moment and with a small scoff at her own action drew it back down around her shoulders.    
“How easily it was forgotten, now I cannot help doing it.”

He followed her through the sleeping quarters, carefully stepping over arrows strewn about the cabin and between barrels and crates that had been thrown here and there in the storm. At last she stopped, drawing Will with her into the storeroom, lit feebly by a flickering lantern hanging from the low ceiling, and perching herself atop a water barrel. 

“Speak. What is wrong?”

The small storeroom had such a low ceiling that if he stood completely straight, the top of Will’s head brushed it. He leaned back against the wall and slid his feet out slightly, crossing his arms over his chest and resigning himself to the conversation they had not yet had the time to have.

“I feel like I took you away from where you should be.”

“What on earth does that mean?”

“I see you looking back behind the ship sometimes, like a bird that wants to fly home but can’t.”

Every day in the week that had passed since they had disembarked, he caught Djaq looking back, he wasn’t even sure she knew that she did it. Back in the Holy Land, in Bassam’s house she had opened up a whole new side to him, the side that was still Saffiyah, and told him stories of her childhood. Her love for the birds that Bassam cared for, how before assuming her brother’s identity and fighting to avenge his death, she had always thought she would stay there.   
There was a part of Will, though he hated to think it, that thought she had only returned to England because of him. “Are you sorry that you didn’t stay? I would have stayed with you, you know. I’d follow you to the sun.”

“Ah…” She smiled softly as Will’s green eyes fell to the floor. “A little.” Djaq confessed at last. “I miss Bassam dearly, I miss my homeland. And perhaps in time I will come back again.”

“Then why didn’t-” He began, looking up just as Djaq alighted from her barrel and stepped closer to him.

“Because, Will,” She interrupted, angling her body so she faced him and fondly placed a hand on his scruffy cheek, “Sherwood is my home. This family is my home now, and my job is not finished there.”

“Promise me you’re not only returning for me.”

“Would that be so bad? You just said that you would follow me. Can I not follow you? Look at you…” She laughed softly and it was only then that Will realised his eyes were filling with unshed tears. He cursed himself. He’d always been the softer one of the group, and he hated it sometimes. 

“But I promise.  _ England _ is my place for now. I know it as surely as I know that you are my heart, Will Scarlett.” 

“Really?” But then before he could say another word her lips were on his, and he melted in her hands. His eyes flickered closed, his arms automatically encircled her waist and it was all just Djaq. 


	3. Euphemisms

“If this is another “we’re getting honey” situation I’m going to be sick and it’s going to have nothing to do with the sea.” Much huffed, throwing down his wooden spoon and leaving two plates still full of food to the side. 

“Much, they _were_ getting honey, they weren’t even together then.” Robin rolled his eyes, and John tossed a piece of bread at his head. 

“That’s what they’d have us believe.” 

“...Is this one of those things I missed?”

“When you were off selling us all to Gisborne? Yes, we all learnt what a euphemism is.”

“A eu-what?” Allan stared blankly, looking between Robin, who suddenly looked pained, and John who just grunted and shook his head. 

“It’s when you use a sweet innocent word to mean something else.” Much clarified, “Marian taught...Marian taught me that.” Everyone’s eyes darted to Robin, the tension suddenly palpable between them as their leader stared at his boots for a moment. He looked up slowly, dirty brown hair falling in front of his eyes.

“It’s okay.” He spoke softly, though his eyes clearly said otherwise at the mere mention of her name.

“Yeah…” Allan looked between Robin and Much and sensing the need to quickly move on from thoughts of Marian plaguing them all, quickly added, “I’m not being funny but we are talking about the same Will Scarlett right? Can’t speak for Djaq but I don’t think he even knows where everything is to begin with.” 

“Don’t be vulgar, Allan.” John grunted, turning his glare onto Allan who immediately held up his hands in protest.

“Much said it! I just mean that they’re probably off fletching more arrows.”

“Is that a-”

“No, Much! That’s not a euphe-whatsit!” 

xxxXxxx

Sometimes it was easy to forget that Will was only twenty-one years old. Except in rare moments of passionate anger, he possessed the moral maturity, and the cleverness of one much greater in years, and despite his tall and thin build was far from lacking in physical strength. He’d known the suffering and near starvation of most of the peasants in Nottinghamshire, and the great loss that came from a parent starving to death in place of their children, experiences that had aged him faster than a young man should need to. Far beyond his age, his firm grasp on truth and doing the right thing was nigh on par with Robin’s and, like Robin had, he too had lapsed severely in the face of personal distress and let grief blind reason in favour of revenge. Everything he had gone through was written all over his face until one reached his eyes, wide and green and incredibly kind that sometimes still held that youthful innocence and wonderment when he saw something new. 

It had been there when he had accidentally caught her bathing. It had been there the first time Djaq wore a dress to infiltrate the castle. It had been there when they tackled the Sheriff’s strongroom. It had been there in Bassam’s house when Djaq showed him the birds. It had been there in the saddest way the first time they thought Marian had died. It had been there, almost disbelieving, when Djaq admitted her love for him, and it had stayed there longer than ever before when she kissed him. She wished he could keep that look forever. 

But when he slept, he did not look so hardened by poverty and a woodland life. It was not the kind of sleep they had all become accustomed to, ready to leap up at the slightest noise and hide in the trees, or to run to the aid of some unfortunate villager. It was a real, deep sleep born from exhaustion and complete happiness.   
She smiled fondly as she watched him, felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, lean and painfully thin but muscular beneath her arms. They should not have done this. Despite the well established intent within each of them to marry one day, this was against both of their better judgement. But right now she did not care. It had happened and that was that.   
The Saracen leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the Englishman’s stubble ridden chin. She liked the contrast of their skin as she lightly drew a circle with one finger on his chest. The darkness of her olive skin against his very pale tone. His face and arms, like the rest of them, had burned and then tanned in the hot Palestinian sun, but even then, he was almost stark white.

The sacks of flour and grain crinkled as Djaq shifted her weight a little and adjusted the blanket over them and the movement seemed to stir him.   
Will shifted, letting out a low, barely there snore and moving an arm over her back in his sleep. Perhaps it was that that woke him for he jerked suddenly and his eyes blinked open. Propping her chin on her hands, Djaq smiled up at him as his eyes found her and widened in apparent surprise. “Hello there.”

“...So it wasn’t a dream then…”

“It was not a dream.” 

And there it was. The same wide eyed wondering that made her stomach do backflips every time. She laughed softly and wriggled just enough to pull the blanket further up her bare back, suitably covering them both up. “Are you quite comfortable there?”

“Well I’ve slept in worse places than on sacks of grain.” 

His heartbeat had sped up again, she could feel it beneath her palm and subtly moved her left arm a little ways across her chest, not missing the way Will’s eyes followed her every movement. 

“I cannot believe that just happened.” 

“Well...believe it, Scarlett. Because it most definitely did.” With a rather loud grunt Djaq rolled her leg off of Will’s and curled up at his side, turning to look up at the lantern that swayed gently with each rock of the ship.

“Do you think it should have?”

“Definitely not. But it did.” 

Will let out a breathless laugh that Djaq quickly stifled with her hand. “Shh…it is a wonder nobody heard us as it is.”

Warmth sparked through her shoulder as Will’s fingers ran over it, tracing nonsense shapes that she suspected might have been his attempt at their initials if he could write. And then there was one she did recognise, the circle, and the bow within that was etched upon the tags they both still wore around their necks. Robin Hood’s symbol. Will had come up with the whole idea for them himself. She still remembered the real burst of belonging within her when Robin had placed one around her neck, truly welcoming her into the gang. 

“This can’t happen again can it?” It sounded less like a question and more a statement of fact and she lifted her head to meet his eyes with a soft smile, “It shouldn’t have happened this time. Not yet anyway. Not until we’re…”

“No, I’m afraid I shall have to make you wait, now.” She teased, with the hint of truth they both knew was there, and in one sudden movement sat up, holding the blanket against her chest to cover herself. “But I am glad it did, Will.”

Obvious relief immediately flooded the carpenter’s face as he reached up and brushed a curl behind Djaq’s ear. “I love you, Djaq.”

Catching his hand in hers she turned and kissed his palm. “I think maybe this once you can call me by my real name.”

“I love you, Saffiyah.”

Perhaps she did not mind her real name so much anymore. Perhaps it had been going back to Bassam’s house, where all the painful memories of her twin brother came flooding to her that had begun it. 

“Love, you’re crying.”

Djaq reached up immediately and wiped at her cheek, staring at the salty wetness that came away with it. She hadn’t even noticed. Will sat up, the bags beneath them shifting with the movement and before he could pull her to him for comfort she gently placed a hand flat against his chest. 

“It’s okay. Happy tears. I promise. Now...we must go before they miss us.”

Something that she could not quite place flickered through Will’s eyes, something she silenced quickly by drawing him in for a final kiss. 

Five minutes later Djaq slipped out of the storeroom, carefully looking around to be sure they’d not been seen before Will followed a few moments later. 

“And where do we say we’ve been?”

“You, get back in your hammock and pretend to have been asleep. That’s not even entirely a lie. I…” She knelt and gathered up a handful of loose arrows that had fallen from Robin’s quiver. “Was fletching these arrows.”

xxxXxxx

“Land! This. I like!” John bellowed loudly, drawing the eye of all the workers on the docks as he barrelled off the ship and onto English soil once more. After near four weeks on the sea, they had at last made port at Portsmouth. With any luck they could not be more than a few days behind the Sheriff’s hasty return to his province. 

“On both ways, John never did find his sea legs.” Much laughed, clapping Little John heartily on the shoulder as they strode off the boat and drawing in an exaggeratedly long breath. “Smell that? Good old England…”

“All I smell is dead fish and manure from the stables over there.” Djaq shook her head, rolling her eyes as she stepped past Much, Allan and Will chuckling behind her. “But you are right...certainly smells like England.”

With early December, winter had begun. The trees, those that were not bare of leaves already, were orange and brown and drifting to the ground and the chill in the air was magnified by the sea breeze coming off the water. Smoke drifted from chimneys from nearby houses and the inn, and two gulls squawked and squabbled over a discarded fish head. 

“It is three days ride back to camp, I’ll see to getting some horses. John, Will.” Robin jerked his head towards the stables, ushering the men to follow him and leaving Allan, Djaq and Much behind at the edge of the dock. 

“You’ve come from the Holy Land haven’t you?” A voice behind them made them turn. A woman, carrying an infant on one hip and balancing a basket of eggs against the other stood there, her eyes wide and full of hope as she looked at them.

“How’d you know that?” Allan asked, exchanging a look with the others to which Djaq just raised her eyebrow. 

“Well, your clothes don’t look very English and...also, her.” The woman nodded, a little uneasily at Djaq but that was nothing the Saracen was not used to. The red headed child in her arms made a sudden lunge for the basket and with quick movement from Allan, he caught it before the eggs could fall to the ground and shatter. 

“Yes. We have.” Djaq answered, as the woman hurriedly murmured a thanks to Allan and looked at each of them in turn. 

“Is there word from the King? Is he coming back?” The spark of hope flickered eagerly in her eyes. “Did you get to speak to him?”

“Yes...we...we certainly did speak to the King.” Much cleared his throat and shot the others a look. Djaq shook her head quickly, this was not her mess to clean up and Allan just shrugged at him. Much had started to explain, he could finish it. “And we know that ...he...wants peace…” He continued weakly, his hands firmly on his hips the way he did when he was uncomfortable. “But no. He’s not coming back...until then…”

The defeated look that came over the woman’s face was near heartrending. Djaq was not even an Englishwoman and the few years she had lived freely here since being brought as a slave had told her everything about the tyrannical rule of Prince John in his brother’s stead. It was not only Nottingham that was overseen by corruption. 

“Sorry!” Much called, his face twisting into an uncomfortable cringe as the woman, defeated and downcast, turned and left them. 

“Look, we did what we went for. We kept the King alive. That means Prince John can’t take the throne.”

“It is hardly stopping him from doing his worst anyway.”

“This ain’t his worst though, is it? His worst would be razing all of Nottingham to nothing.”

The heavy sounds of hooves on the dirt road broke the trio from their conversation. Robin, Little John and Will had returned, each leading two horses by the reins. 

“Impressive, how did you manage to afford six horses so quickly?” Djaq stepped forward, stroking the nose of the chestnut that Will led over to her. 

“Well...technically speaking only three were for sale.” He exchanged a furtive look with Robin who feigned innocence as he mounted the grey horse and slung his bow across his back.

“We borrowed the rest-”

“From very well off drunkards in the tavern.” John finished, last to climb onto his steed which nickered and shifted a little under the unexpected weight of the huge man. 

“Now let’s go before they get wise!” 

This did feel like home. The wind in her hair, sword clattering at her hip, the falling leaves and the winter chill as they galloped back towards Sherwood. All that was missing was the soldiers in pursuit and Gisborne yelling at his men to catch them, and perhaps a few poorly aimed arrows flying over their heads.   
Maybe Will had had a point those weeks ago on the ship, perhaps she did regret a little not staying with Bassam, but being back here, in the trees and knowing that tomorrow they would go back to stealing from the wealthy and taking care of the poor, Djaq was more sure than ever that her place was here for now.   
And for now, as they rode on, it was just the old gang again, as if they had never gone away. They laughed and talked of things that were not the King and the Sheriff and Marian. For now it was normal, and she cherished those moments with her friends.   
She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of the wind on her face, a smile spreading over her features as slowly she let go of the reins with one hand and then the other and kept her seat in the saddle only with her legs.

“What are you doing? Are you crazy?” 

She laughed loudly and opened her eyes to see Much staring at her from his bay stallion that kept pace with hers, “No! I am living!”

“Living in the realm of the fairies maybe!” 

Childishly she stuck out her tongue at him and briefly caught Will’s laughing face in her peripheral vision. Flaunting her recklessness even further, she turned as much as she could in the saddle while keeping her horse straight and grinned straight at him. The horse beneath her whinnied in protest and with a disobedient toss of his head effectively made her spin around and seize hold of the reins again, pulling firmly until her horse slowed his pace a little.

“Cor, Djaq, you didn’t come this far to die falling off your horse.” 

“I was not going to fall.” She scoffed at Will’s remark, briefly defensive until she heard him laughing and mock glared at him in return.

“Do you think the camp will still be there?” Allan asked, drawing a loaf of bread from his saddle bag, tearing off a chunk for himself and tossing it to John who began passing it between them.  
  
“We were only gone two months, Allan, not two years.”

“Yeah, but that’s if the Sheriff’s men haven’t burnt it to the ground.”

“Did you forget the Sheriff was exactly where we were? It was kind of the point of going.” Will asked, nudging his horse into a trot to keep pace with Allan just in front of Djaq.

“We should move it anyway. I do not think old Vaisey could find it again himself, but all the same…” Robin called back from the front of the group. “We should not stay in one place much longer, and we do need more secure stores.”

“Yeah...sorry about that.” Allan sheepishly grinned, and seemed to ignore the glare that Much was giving him, “But you know I never gave away the camp.”

“No, no Little John handled that bit himself.”

“Much, stop that. He was only trying to be kind, and I was there also.” Djaq interrupted, unsure whether she was defending John or sparing Much from taking a staff to the head. 

“That’s right you were! Why didn’t you stop him?”

“ _Me_? I’m a quarter of his size. He could pick me up in one hand.”

“Not after what happened to the last guard who tried that to you.” John finally spoke, the first words he’d said that were more than a single syllable the whole ride thus far, to an immediate burst of laughter from the rest of the men.   
Far from offended Djaq was really quite pleased with herself. She may be small and slight but any of the unsuspecting guards, or indeed mercenaries, who dared to underestimate her quickly regretted it.

“Watch out, Scarlett.”

“Watch out, _A-Dale_.” Djaq tore off a piece of bread, passing it across to Much and then throwing a piece at the back of Allan’s head.

“You know, I think I missed the bickering most of all, more than any of you. _Anyway_ , did you hear that Will? You are going to have to whip us up another camp as clever as the old one.” 

“I don’t mind. It was nothing.”

“Perhaps something with a stable so we can keep a horse or two?”

“Horses are a lot harder to hide than people, Much. I can hardly work miracles.”

“I don’t know...those weaponised instruments were pretty miraculous to me.”

“Many things are miraculous to you.”

xxxXxxx

_“Djaq! Come and join us?”_

_At Robin’s behest, Djaq popped up from behind the rock which she had been using as cover as she toyed with the light and teased Much who had reluctantly promised to fast if his God sent him a sign._

_“For good?” She hopefully asked, plastering on a matter of fact expression, taking it for granted that they would accept her. Even amongst her people, she did not quite belong here, and she did not quite belong in the Holy Land._

_“Well…I was thinking just for dinner, but…”_

_"I was thinking for good. Perhaps I should have let your big friend here die, huh? Then there would be a vacancy.”_

_“It wouldn’t be safe for you…”_

_The Saracen shot a look of daggers at Will, the quiet one when he spoke up, looking directly at her as he spoke. She might have gotten away with it if he just stopped talking then and there. But he had seen her wash, he knew she was no man,her secret was already broken._

_"For us...or for him?” Robin tentatively said but Djaq saw the slightly suspicious look in his blue eyes as he looked at her somewhat oddly. She avoided the leader of the gang’s gaze and instead resumed glaring at the other one who still kept his gaze on her._

_"For_ her _.” And three things happened at once. The big man, John, dropped his jaw like a broken hinge, Robin started to laugh in a way that made her think she had suspected it all along, and the others both turned and stared wide eyed first at Will and then at her._

_“I thought as much...what is your name? Your_ real _name.”_

_Silence. The Saracen closed her eyes and opened them again with a quiet sigh. It was spoiled. They would not want her to join them now they knew she was not a man. But she was more than prepared to argue that if they protested.  
“Saffiyah.” She answered at last, and quickly added “But I prefer you to call me Djaq.” _

_“Well…anyone have a problem with a woman joining the gang?” Robin asked loudly, and looked around at each of his men in turn. There was a quick chorus of muttered “no’s” and the four other men all shook their heads.  
Djaq let out a long sigh of relief, although she was somewhat surprised that no one had an argument, it was a welcome change. She smiled, a real smile the truest she had given in a long time since before she had been bundled off on a ship bound for this country. _

_“Welcome to the gang, Djaq.”_

At first it had been strange. Not for her so much, but it was clearly an adjustment for the men. She caught them elbow each other several times when someone made a remark they deemed a woman might find inappropriate. If there was an extra blanket at night she was offered it first even if she was not cold, or any extra food that might be left. Much asked her opinion, albeit only once, on his stew, which he never did again after being reminded that despite being a woman, she could not cook very well. Allan once or twice made the mistake of attempting to show her how to shoot an arrow, to which she promptly fired one between his legs. Will, for a good week or two couldn’t look her in the eye for long, and though she had forgiven him for the accidental peeping, seemed truly repentant long afterward.   
On her own part, Djaq at first, like she had for three years since her brother had been killed, continued her insistence on behaving as much like a man as she could and rid herself of any femininity that she could. This was made difficult, and undeniable, on the weeks in each month where she became undeniably moody and more fierce than usual. On those occasions she was grateful that men did not know a thing about that part of her. She refused any special treatment she suspected was just because she was a woman out of an innate desire to belong and instead made herself as useful as could be serving as a physician and scholar among them.

But as the weeks turned into months, they grew used to each other’s company and comfortable, perhaps sometimes a little _too_ comfortable if she were honest, friends where once they had been acquaintances, and it was not long before the band of outlaws in Sherwood Forest became like her family. She made inseparable friendships in each of them and after the uncomfortable start they had had, particularly with Will.  
Slowly, she let down some walls, allowed herself to know that these men accepted her for exactly who she was. So in time, Djaq too embraced who she was and, though she kept her brother’s name, stopped trying to deny how she was and would always be a woman.   
When Allan’s brother was hung too early for them to be able to save them, she comforted him, reopened the old wounds in her own past and empathised with him. The first time she had spoken of Djaq in years.   
Her appearance changed too. She stopped cutting her hair so close to the scalp where she had always kept it trimmed in disguise and began to allow it to grow out again. Next she stopped binding her chest, something which her body thanked her for relieving it of the pain in favour of comfortable support and, chose and made her own clothes to enable much freer movement. She was unapologetically feminine but woe befell those who underestimated her for it. 


	4. A Bitter Chill

The icy chill in the air grew harsher and colder with each day. The bite of winter meant fewer wealthy travellers through the forest, less animals venturing into the open and more desperate starving peasants attempting to poach the ones that did. The feeble income of those villagers who did manage to hold a job, mostly those who supplied necessities to the castle, smiths and millers, dwindled further with the lack of demand. The snow had come too. Light dustings at first that coated the forest floor and the thatched roofs of huts but soon melted, and then heavier and more frequent. Layered in coats and cloaks gathered from past disguises, and more appropriately equipped for an English winter rather than the intense heat and then cold of the deserts, the outlaws did what they could to ease the suffering of the villages of Nottinghamshire.   
Will alone stayed behind in the woods while the others distributed what meat and food they could steal from the castle stores and snatched the purses of unsuspecting guards. Whilst they tried to catch up for the months they had been away, he undertook the new task of moving a camp in winter.   
It kept him warm though, which was the only reason Djaq had reluctantly accepted to wear his cloak over hers. The physical efforts of chopping wood and fashioning a home out of logs and rope, saw him work up a steady sweat that warmed him more than their campfires did. 

And to be honest, as much as the people of Loxley and Nettlestone meant to him, and as great as his straight forward desire for justice was, Will preferred to be alone much of the day in winter. He hated winters, and far more than that he hated having to watch people starve through them. He had been in that position himself most of the years that Robin, then and still the Earl of Loxley had been fighting in the crusades and his lands given to Gisborne when Edward was replaced as the Sheriff.   
Now winter only made him think of his mother lying to them all and saying she had eaten while really she gave her very meagre portions to Will and Luke. How she had faded away so much faster than the rest of them and hid the sharp angry hunger pains like she did not even feel them. Jane Scarlett had died in her husband’s arms only three years ago, telling her children that she loved them. That moment had been the catalyst that ignited Will’s pure hatred towards the new Sheriff that just let his people starve and kept all the best for himself. Whilst Dan Scarlett, and Will, were skilled carpenters, there were no more markets to sell their work, no one had money to hire them and so they like the rest of the village suffered and fell into poverty.

One winter later, things grew even more dire. Unable to watch his family and his village starve and fall into even more desperate times, eighteen year old Will stole away to Nottingham with his then fourteen year old brother in tow right behind him.   
It was only one bag of flour, but that was enough to keep the whole village eating on the bread they could make for weeks. Unbeknownst to him, they had suspected such attempts at theft would be made. Houses were searched, families thrown outside as their homes turned upside down in the search for the specially marked sack of flour meant for the castle. 

_“Out! Now!” Sir Guy of Gisborne roughly hurled Luke Scarlett to the ground as he scrambled to get back inside and hide the evidence._

_“Luke! No!” Dan shouted, pulling his youngest son close and gripping his arm tightly as the soldiers tore through the single room cottage they called home._

_Will stood silently by, his eyes wide and heart pounding anxiously in his chest. They had not seen the mark on the sack, cleverly hidden on the inside so any thieves would not see. Any thieves like him._

_“It’s alright, boys. There’s nothing for them to find, it’ll be over in a...minute…” Dan’s voice trailed off when he turned and saw Will’s expression. He looked back at Luke who looked terrified and then back to his eldest again. “Is there?_ Will! _”_

_“Found it, sir! Stowed under the bed.” There was a heavy thump as the half empty sack of flour landed hard on the dirt, spilling its valuable contents onto the ground._

_Gisborne alighted from his horse, a sadistically satisfied expression on his face as he stepped over to the three Scarlett men and stared each of them in the eye._

_“Well, well, well...I_ know _you don’t have the money to pay for that, Scarlett.”_

_“Yeah I took it.” Will spat, stepping forward in an effort to shield his little brother as Gisborne stepped closer. “To feed the people_ you’re _supposed to be lo-” He grunted as the lieutenant to the Sheriff immediately lashed out and struck him hard across the face._

_“It wasn’t just Will!” Little Luke bravely defended, even as his father tried to cover his mouth and muffled his protests, “It wasn’t just Will!”_

_“The penalty for theft is to lose the hand that stole it.” Gisborne seized Will’s wrist hand in his gloved hand and try as Will did to wriggle free, his grip was like a vice. “And since I feel lenient today…” He let go and moved dangerously toward Luke. Dan tried to shield the boy but with a nod of Gisborne’s head, Luke was dragged forward alongside Will. “I’ll only take it from one of you. So...who will it be? Little brother, or big brother?”_

_If his mouth wasn’t so dry from fear, Will would have spat in Gisborne’s slimy face. He was a moment away from pushing his brother away and taking the punishment before a desperate shout came from behind them.  
“Me! If you must take a hand, take mine! Leave the boys, they’re young!”_

_“Dad, no!”_

_Guy stared between them, even his vindictive nature seemed to hesitate for just a second at the thought of chopping off the hand of a fourteen year old but whatever flicker of humanity he showed was gone in a second. He nodded sharply to the guards. “Bring the carpenter.”_

_“Dad! Don’t!”_

_“It’s okay, boys...it’s okay. I’m your father, and I can handle this.”_

_Luke lunged forward, only to be seized quickly by Will who threw his arms around his younger brother’s shoulders and held him back. The whole village was there, angry shouts and frightened gasps surrounded them as Dan was dragged forward and forced to his knees. A block was placed in front of him and forcefully his left hand was slammed upon it, held still by two soldiers either side. Guy did not wield the axe himself but as he turned and smirked at the carpenter’s two sons, he may as well have struck the blow personally._

_“People of Loxley! Let this serve as a warning to you all. Theft will_ not _be tolerated! Now this man has volunteered his own hand in place of his children’s. I will not make such allowances again so teach your children to mind. Their. Hands.”_

_The axe was raised. A woman screamed. Will spun Luke in his arms and pressed his brother’s head into his shoulder so he wouldn’t see. The axe fell, and an agonising scream of pain wrenched from his father’s throat. With a sickening thump, Dan Scarlett’s left hand dropped into the dirt, drenched in the blood that poured freely from the stump of a wrist that was left.  
Will clenched his eyes closed and turned away, never loosening his protective hold on Luke who was screaming too. _

_They left Dan there, writhing in a pool of his own blood as Gisborne and his men rode away, the stolen flour in their hands.  
“Dad!” Letting go of his brother, Will sprinted to his father’s side, as Dan Scarlett clutched at the stump of his wrist. Nearly nauseas at the sight, Will rolled him over, trying not to look at the hand that lay independent from its arm only a yard away.   
“You better run before I cut off more than your hand, you stinking, slimy, leather-clad leech!” Screeching all manner of profanities after Gisborne, Matilda, Loxley’s medicine woman came hurrying up, tearing strips from her own apron to use as a tourniquet for the wrist. _

_“Dad, why did you have to do that?! It was my fault!”_

_“Better m-me than you boys…” Dan groaned, his face contorted in pain as he was lifted between Will and Matilda and carried groaning into the house, young Luke in frightened tears following after them._

_Blood poured through the cotton apron pieces that covered the wound, coating Will’s front in his father’s blood, and staining the dirt floor red as they hefted him onto the only real bed in the one room house._

_“Save it, Dan. You can yell at them afterwards.” Matilda huffed and tossed the already soaked rags to the ground and replaced them with the rest of her apron as she held the limb in the air. “Luke! Get me anything you can find to wrap this. Will, get a bucket of water and help me clean him up.”_

_The boys scurried into action, tripping over each other as they got in the way while Will grabbed the half full bucket from outside the front door. He fought the bile that was rising in his throat as Matilda hauled up Dan’s sleeve so he could wipe the wound. They were no strangers to illness and injuries, and everyone knew someone who had crossed the Sheriff and lost some part of their body but this was horribly different._

_“Good lad.” The older woman nodded, grabbing the corded cotton that Luke used as a scarf when the fourteen year old ran back in and pressed it into Will’s hand. “Now hold that there.” She instructed, pressing Will’s shaking hand onto Dan’s wrist. “Do_ not _let go until it stops bleeding. He’ll be fine.”_

_He did as he was told, paler than usual as he kept his eyes glued onto his father’s groaning face to avoid looking at the horrific injury. “I’m sorry Dad...I’m so sorry, you should have let me-”_

_“I-I know you was only trying to do good, my boy.” Dan sputtered out between pained winces as Matilda began to bind his arm in what bandages she had. “But for pity’s sake, Will, don’t you ever be so foolish again.”_

Foolish? Will still did not think it was foolish. After all, here he was stealing from the Sheriff full time where once he had been about to take over the carpentry business from his dad. But this far Of course, Will and Luke, alongside Benedict Giddings, had done exactly the same thing the next year and if hadn’t been for Robin, would have paid with their lives.

His fingers fumbled for a moment on the rope he was tying off. With a clatter the log he’d hoisted over his head to fasten into place and support the ceiling he had yet to finish, fell back to the forest floor. Will grunted in annoyance and kicked out at the offending wood in frustration. His mind had wandered too far, strayed from the task at hand they were all so eager for him to finish so they could have somewhere warm to sleep again.

“Will?” 

He turned, running a tired hand over his face and forced a smile as Djaq and John made their way towards him. Little John carried what looked to be half a fallen tree over his shoulder, and a pouch of coins jingled at her hip every step that Djaq took. She was still wrapped in his cloak, which drowned her comically so much that she had to hike it up to walk completely uninhibited.

“You done already?”

“We finished our drops quicker than we thought.” John explained and dropped the wood at Will’s feet with a heavy thud. “Thought you might want a hand.”

“He dragged that all the way from the road so you wouldn’t have to spend half the day chopping another tree down.”

“Thanks.”

“Something the matter?”

“No, it’s fine.” Will flatly denied, taking a long draught from his water skin, to which Djaq just scoffed and raised her eyebrows at him. She’d just opened her mouth to press the point when John whistled from behind him and hoisted up the log that he’d dropped.

“Oi...where’s this go?” 

“Uh...yeah, just hold it up there.” Will pointed, bending to pick up the rope that had fallen and with John’s help easily strapped it into place and secured the beam with a few well placed nails.

The first permanent camp the outlaws had made had been cunningly hidden in a small ravine deep in the woods. The entrance was cleverly disguised with a large leaf covered platform that would be impossible to accidentally stumble upon and opened with a hidden lever that only they, and Marian, had known about. Now Will was moving it, just in case the Sheriff could remember how to find it again, to an even more subtle location deeper in the heart of Sherwood. Another week and it would be liveable, and another two and it would be finished. The hollowing out of the ground and figuring out the best way to use the rocky outcrop that served as one wall had been the hardest part, now with the design clear in his mind, all that remained was the piece it together. He’d been taught by the best. 

“Are you sure you do not want to take a break? You will run yourself ragged, Will.”

“Nah...I like being busy.” He grunted, picking up his axe from the ground and moving over to the log that John had brought to start cutting it into the lengths he needed. Subconsciously he sniffed, and rubbed the back of his hand over his nose to cover the sound of his stomach as it grumbled.

“Alright. Sit.” And in that moment with her hands on her hips tenting the cloaks she was wearing so she resembled a tree herself, Djaq looked so unbelievably adorable he couldn’t help but smirk. This was evidently not the look she was going for as she glared and shoved him in the shoulder until Will relented and sat down. 

“Sorry, sorry. I know you’re serious.” 

“I am.” She plopped down next to him and pressed her side against his. Will was far from cold. If anything he had worked up a significant sweat building but her presence was comforting even if he didn’t realise he needed it to be. “What is the matter? You were like this last December too.” 

“It’s his mum, Djaq.”

John did not say much most of the time, which is why his quiet observation of Will’s mood took the younger people by surprise. 

“How did you…” Will started and trailed off before he really knew what he was going to ask. Of course John had known his mother, he was from Loxley too. But unlike the rest of them, John had been outlawed far, far longer. Long enough to not know that he had a son.   
Will had been so young at the time when John was presumed dead, that he did not recognise John when they first met in the forest three years ago. 

“Jane was a good friend to my Alice. I was sorry when I heard she had passed.” John nodded slowly and sighed when the looks on Will and Djaq’s faces demanded further clarification. “Dan told me about it when he came last year.” 

Will nodded slowly, his gaze dropping from John to the dry and crunching leaves beneath his boots. That seemed to be enough confirmation for Djaq who reached over and placed her small hand on his knee. “That is why winter’s are difficult for you.”

“Yeah… this time of winter anyway. Hasn’t been wonderful for my family. The year after that, my dad lost his hand.” 

“This seems...I’ll just…” Seemingly unable to finish his sentence, Little John just stopped talking instead and with a final glance at the two young lovebirds trudged off into the trees.

“I’m sorry, Will.” 

“It’s alright.” Will shrugged and placed his hand over Djaq’s who turned hers in his grasp and squeezed it fondly. “Really isn’t much different to anyone else in the villages anymore. Plenty of families have it worse than we did.”

“That does not lessen your pain. Do not sweep it aside, it is only me here you do not need to be so noble all the time. How old were you?”

“...Seventeen.” As he slowly looked up and saw how wide her eyes had gone, he could tell she hadn’t been expecting it to have been so recent. Four years did not seem like such a long time when he considered how drastically his life had changed in that time.

“Well then of course it is still hard for you. Will…”

“But shouldn’t it be getting easier?”

“It will. Or it will be easier to deal with it.” And a flicker of sorrow appeared in her brown eyes as her hand squeezed his a little tighter. Suddenly Will felt selfish. She was so in tune with his feelings and his moods and yet he forgot sometimes to ask if she was okay. She had lost as much as he had, even _more_. He still had his brother in Scarborough, Saffiyah did not.   
She must have read his face as she turned and drew her hand from his to place both on his cheeks. “You men are all just as ridiculous as each other. You’re allowed to show that you can feel. And your father, although I admit I only met him the one time, would be incredibly proud of you.”

Maybe that was what it really was because a familiar stab of guilt pricked at Will’s heart and made him draw away a little.  
“I don’t like this time of the year…” He began slowly, “Not only because watching people starve is horrific, but because I feel like it’s my fault things went as wrong as they did.”

“... _how_ is it your fault? If anything it is the Sheriff’s fault.”

“...My mother died because she told us she was eating and she wasn’t. Because she made Luke and I eat in her place.”

“She could not see her children starve. You cannot blame yourself for existing, Will.” 

“Yeah, but I do a little bit, and it was definitely my fault that my dad lost his hand and couldn’t work anymore.” 

“Because you wanted to make sure people could eat-” 

“And so I should have been the one that was punished.” Will finished, biting down hard on the inside of his lip, “I wasn’t a kid, I was eighteen and he took it anyway.” Some of the last bitter things he’d argued about with his father flashed through his mind and the guilt was back. “...what bothers me is that it’s my actions, and my words but other people keep paying for them. With hands, with lives…”

Warm arms encircled him and he didn’t even notice the tears that had been forming until one escaped and slid down his cheek, Again he cursed himself for it. He could be quiet and not speak his mind very easily, but when his emotions got the better of him, he hated it. He drew in a shuddering breath and leaned into Djaq’s arms, let her stretch up and kiss the top of his head to comfort him. 

“That is what it means to love someone. I do not think you would even hesitate to do the same thing for your children, whether they are stupid and impulsive or not.”

A weary sort of laugh escaped his lips and he leaned back to look at her with a strange sort of smile. That was the first time she had spoken as though they had a future to plan. It had been unsaid until this moment, that they even planned to marry. Which of course they both seemed to instinctively know anyway, he would ask her in a moment if he thought that was what Djaq wanted. But similarly, they also both knew that it was not the time.

She could read his thoughts as plainly as though he’d said them out loud and her compassionate expression was immediately replaced with a raised eyebrow and a soft laugh, “Do not get any ideas in your head just yet, Will Scarlett, are you crazy? We live in a forest.”

Will laughed again, a little more genuine this time and leaned forward to capture her lips quickly with his own. It did not matter how many times he kissed her, it felt warmer every time and each time it was harder and harder now to move apart.

“My mum would have loved you.”

“I wish I could say the same of my own parents...but you are English and you have offered no goats in exchange for my hand so I do not think they would have approved. But Bassam likes you, and that is almost the same.” She laughed, and he was taken for a moment with how pretty she looked. A few simple changes had made her nearly unrecognisable from the disguised Saracen slave she had been when they first met. “What?”

She had caught him staring, and, though he had no reason to be embarrassed Will felt heat rise to his cheeks again.   
“Nothing. You just...I don’t know. There’s something…”

“Eloquent as ever.” Djaq smiled and burrowed back into the cloak that shrouded her. She rose to her feet and for a moment swayed there, overtaken by a wave of dizziness. “I’m fine, I just have not had enough water.” She raised a dark hand, silencing Will’s concern before he could voice it just as John, ever well timed, made his reappearance.


	5. A Flaw in the Plan

“Are you ready?”

“More than you can imagine.” Much sighed, adjusting his hold on his half of the heavy trunk he and Djaq carried between them. They were all laden, none moreso than Little John, with the belongings they had brought from the old camp. The equipment from Much’s makeshift kitchen, the trunk full of old disguises, weapons and armor, sacks of coins and jewels they had yet to distribute, blankets and bedding.

Will was grinning like mad as he jogged around them and reached into a hollowed out hole in a tree trunk. There was a quiet click and a squealing of a wooden pulley and the wall they thought they had stood in front of slid away to the side. There was a collective gasp, followed by several impressed chuckles as the new door to their camp was revealed.

“Will...how did...this looks like stone. You, my friend, truly are a genius.” Robin laughed, pulling out the door and knocking on what had appeared to be a solid stone surface. It blended right into the real stone wall directly beside it. “This is wood. You painted this?”

“Yeah...you know, mostly dried mud and a bit of ground up coal, it’s not much really. You haven’t seen the inside yet. Go on.” Will held out an arm, ushering them all through the entryway that was wide enough for two grown men to easily pass through. Leaving the piles of makeshift furniture and assorted belongings on the ground, they all stepped in. 

Though the entrance was much smaller, the interior was just as spacious as the first camp. There was a circle of stones around a shallow pit, forming a ready made fireplace in the centre and another smaller one on the slightly raised up split level, bridged by a wooden ramp that Will had built in. 

“The smaller one is for the kitchen, there’s a stand there to put your grill on above it Much.” Will began the small tour as people poked their heads into every nook and cranny to find out what Will had repurposed the area into. “And where you’re standing Allan, behind that cloth there’s a little pantry there between the rocks, it’ll keep it cool in there in summer.” 

“I’m not saying you forgot anything…” Much started, staring up at the leaf covered ceiling above then and then turning in a slow circle. “But where do we sleep?”

“That’s the best bit.” 

Stepping by Djaq, Will swept aside a makeshift curtain off the little kitchen, revealing two bunks built into the rocky wall, one above the other and each long enough for Little John’s great height to fit on. “There’s two, another two over the other side built into the woodwork which you can see better when the door closes, those ones have a cover for...you know, privacy.” Djaq arched an eyebrow and didn’t miss how all of the men turned and briefly glanced at her, but she would have been lying if she did not appreciate the consideration. The men certainly did not care about personal space but she made a conscious effort to avoid any further mishaps after Much had very nearly walked in on her changing into a dress to infiltrate the castle,   
“ and Robin if you reach up there and tug on that rope...”

Robin did so and laughed as two hammocks dropped from the ceiling on either side of him. He gave it another tug and they rolled cleverly right back up again. “Six!”

“And we hide the loot where?”

“Better than the last place. It’s under the floor.” Will stomped twice on the raised platform and then turned and flipped up a hidden door in the floor.

“Will, you’ve outdone yourself!” Djaq beamed, clapping her hands excitedly at the same time that Allan heartily slapped Will on the back. 

“Honestly, forget you Robin, Will’s the brains behind the operation now.” 

“I could not agree more, Allan.” Robin grinned, wonderment all over his face as he congratulated the youngest of their company who humbly rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged.

“It was nothing.”

“Nothing? If it was you who designed the Sheriff’s strongroom none of us would ever have gotten in. Right, lads...let’s move in, huh? We need to get moving if we’re to make it through both Loxley and Nettlestone today.” 

To the unobservant eye, Robin seemed much improved in the month that had passed since they had landed back on English soil. He laughed and his plans for ambushing wealthy strangers on the road were still as cunning and effective as ever. Perhaps there was some truth to the facade, but it was mostly that, a facade. When he didn’t think his men could see, which they nearly always could, Robin’s face fell sullen again, his eyes darkened and never quite reached their original shine. He only cried when he thought everyone else was asleep but more than once Djaq had caught him on his knees praying for their God to send Marian back. They had not told him, but more often than not he shouted for her in his sleep, it was either mournful cries for Marian, or vengeful shouts for Gisborne’s blood. And no one could blame him. They walked on eggshells when he was in a mood, and visibly relaxed when for a moment he seemed more than a shadow of his former self.

Bit by bit they moved everything in. Blankets and pillows tossed to the side before everyone could fight over who claimed which bed, what little food they did have that was not freshly caught was stowed away in the natural cool space between the rocks, the trunks of loot and clothing stowed away beneath the floor and bows and quivers hung up on small shelves and hooks formed in the logs. It was a long process, one which Much specifically was very particular about where he thought things should go. 

  
Safely stowing her bag of apothecarial and medicinal supplies in a little nook in the wall beside the bunk that she claimed, Djaq straightened up, and as she did her head spun again and for a moment she stood there blinking away the momentary vertigo. Her hand drifted up to her head, delicately pressing two fingers to her temple until the dizziness passed. 

“You right there, Djaq?” Allan asked, stepping by her with an armful of firewood he lay down in the corner and she nodded. 

Truthfully she felt strange. Not unlike the unpleasant sensations that came with a monthly cycle. Except that wasn’t what this was. She told herself it was not drinking enough water, which might well have been true, but while that explained bouts of dizziness, it was unlikely to explain the sudden nausea that was beginning to well up inside her. It was winter though, and illness abounded. And with John coughing up a lung half the night, it was astounding that the rest of them had not yet come down with something.

“I’m fine.” 

xxxXxxx

“Djaq! Will! You’re back!” 

They had barely arrived in Loxley, and Allan was only just handing over the first of their coin purses when familiar voices made the three Outlaws turn around. Daniel, the young boy they had befriended last year came running up, grinning ear to ear as he saw them. He was followed by two other boys, Peter and Samuel if Djaq remembered right, and each of them were clutching a pretend weapon made of wood and their honourary outlaw tags still hanging proudly from their necks. 

“Well, well…’allo lads.” Allan grinned, his smile faltering for a second when Daniel seemed to hesitate when he looked at him. “What?”

“I’ve seen you riding with Sir Guy.” The eleven year old bluntly said in an accusatory manner and Samuel, who once had proudly said that Allan was who he pretended to be when they played in the forest seemed to have swapped his toy sword for a long stick. “I thought you left the gang.”

“Left? Nah...nah I’d never leave the gang.” Allan, who in many ways was still paying for his temporary betrayal even if everyone had forgiven him, lied and looked sideways at Will and Djaq for a little assistance.

“Allan was undercover for us.” Will interjected, thinking quickly enough to reasonably explain to the children. “Must have done a good job if he even fooled you boys.” 

“Yeah. See?” Allan held up his tags and ruffled Daniel’s hair, “You really think Robin Hood would let me keep these if I let him down?”

“Well...alright...what does undercover mean?”

“It means Allan was a spy on the inside of the castle.” Djaq smiled, it was a bold faced lie but if it convinced them to trust Allan again that would work out alright. “Got us information that way.”

“Like Lady Marian was? We haven’t seen her for a long time.” Peter asked, whose dark brown hair was now so long it nearly touched his shoulders.

“Yeah sure, sort of…now here…” Allan grabbed one of the bags of food out of Will’s hands and produced a dead chicken from it. “Take these home right away, okay?” He grinned, handing the chicken to Daniel, a sizeable piece of pork to Peter and another chicken to Samuel. 

“Allan, that pork was meant for a larger family, it’s only Peter and his dad.” Will quietly chided and Allan elbowed him as the boys ran off to take their food back home. 

“Yeah well...kids are more observant than I expected.”

“It’s winter, our supplies aren’t endless.”

“Both of you shut up, and get moving.” Djaq rolled her eyes, mildly irritated with the bickering though it rarely bothered her. They dispersed amongst the village to cover more houses. Allan carried the coins and small packs of flour, Will the rest of the meat and would inevitably pause to mend fences and broken pieces of equipment the Sheriff’s men had shattered, and Djaq tended to the houses where sickness had fallen. Loxley had only Matilda and a few novice medicine women to tend to the whole town for those who could not get to Nottingham to see the physicians, Djaq, trained in all manner of illness and ailments by her father, would lend the help she could.

“Do not bear weight on that leg for at least a few more days.” She sat back, wiping her hands with a wet rag brought to her by the barrel-makers daughter. A finished barrel had collapsed onto his leg a week ago and had not healed properly in his hurry to continue work. Larkin Vice was a greying, thin man in his forties and because his trade was one in heavy demand from Nottingham, and the manor that had formerly been Robin’s was a little less worse off than the rest of Loxley. His home had three small rooms instead of the usual one.

“I must work, the Sheriff has almost doubled his usual amount of barrels and in no longer a timeframe…” Larkin groaned as he tried to sit up and immediately lay back down again. “I cannot lose that contract. Gisborne has already asked how far along the order is.” 

“Doubled?” That caught her ear and she tucked away that little tidbit of information for late. “And you will fall further behind if you do not rest. I think you would prefer I attend to this than Matilda but I assure you I do not take very kindly to my patients ignoring my instructions.” The Saracen smiled, withdrawing a little jar from her bag. “I shall leave this with your wife, it is a salve that will soothe the pain, it must be applied twice a day.” 

“You don’t understand, I have seven children that need…”

“And Robin would not see them starve. You will be helped.” 

The man only seemed a little reassured as he reluctantly lay back but seemed accepting that movement would do more harm than good. “You know, a year ago I would never have imagined a Saracen would be helping us.”

“A year ago, you did not let this Saracen help you. I remember.” She chuckled, closing up her bag and leaving a little pouch of coins in its stead. “To help ease your lack of work.”

Accepting a friendly nod from the barrel-marker Djaq smiled and stepped out of the room. It happened again, another sudden wave of dizziness that made her stomach churn unpleasantly as she walked right into Kate, the housewife who held a toddler in her arms. It passed quickly enough so she could force a smile and hand over the jar, repeating the instructions she had just given the stubborn man.

“Thank you.” Kate smiled kindly, relief all over her face, “We could not afford a physician to see him and it took my three eldest to help hold him in that bed.”

“You do not need to remind me that men are stubborn.”

“So, when can we expect the newest little outlaw?”

Djaq nearby dropped her bag in shock and her eyebrows disappeared into her black hair. She did not even think anyone outside of the gang knew that she and Will were involved at all with each other. “Excuse me?”

Kate’s blue eyes darted down and Djaq followed them to her own ringless hand and back up, 

“Oh...well don’t worry, there might be more than you think-”

“I am not with child and nor will I be for some time.” Djaq tried to keep her tone light, though it bothered her a little more than she cared to admit. Both women lowered their voices so as not to be heard by Larkin in the next room. Kate’s face changed then to one of pity that unsettled Djaq even more than she already was. 

“Oh my dear, you don’t know do you?”

“There is nothing to know.”

“I have had seven children, I know what it looks like.” 

“...I shall return to see to him when next I am in Loxley.” Eager to escape this entirely uncomfortable situation that was making her feel sicker than she already did, Djaq turned and all but fled to the door. The moment the wood swung open she started and gasped in shock. Matilda stood there, and immediately smiled warmly to see Djaq. 

“I see I’m not needed after all, looks like you got here before I did. Robin said you would lend a hand.” 

Laughing uneasily more to ward off the surprise than anything else, the Saracen immediately made to step past only to be quickly stopped by Kate’s hushed whispers. “Actually, Matilda,you might have a look at Djaq?”

“Why? What’s wrong with her? This young lady delivered my granddaughter into this world, I’m quite sure she’s capable of anything.”

Djaq liked Matilda. She was a kind and clever woman who according to Robin and Will had delivered half the village that was Robin’s age and younger. But most of all she liked her outspokenness against the Sheriff, and had seemed quite mad when Djaq had first met her. While Djaq and Little John were left behind in the forest with Matilda’s very in labour daughter, the rest of them had saved her from a dunking as a witch.

But now she wanted nothing more than to get away as fast as possible. Already her mind was reeling, she did not need anyone poking around her. “Nothing at all is wrong with me. I was merely a little lightheaded, that is all.”

And as she turned away, to her mortification finding Will leaning against the fence waiting for her, Kate must have voiced her suspicions. She hardly got four yards before Matilda hurried after and caught her by the elbow. Will straightened up, catching sight of what was happening and raising an eyebrow. Before she could think of some excuse, Matilda got there first and whisked her around.

“You boys just get on, little Eddy was just taken ill and I want Djaq’s opinion on it. Get on, Will Scarlett!” She shooed until Will, looking thoroughly puzzled, turned and vanished again and against her will, Djaq was whisked back inside the house.

“I assure you, this is _not_ necessary” She insisted, indignantly pulling her arm from Matilda’s grip while Kate went to check on her husband. “What are you doing?”

“Look here, Djaq. You helped save my Rosa and little Alice so I’ll only ever be nice to ya, but you don’t know everything.”

“Larkin is asleep, he’ll not hear a thing.” Kate reappeared, ushering the other two women into the next room and shooing three of her children out of it. Djaq was all but forced into a chair. Her heart was pounding now, and her eyes were as wide as a deer about to run. 

“Now. Kate tells me she thinks you’re ‘iding something.”

“I hide nothing. I _cannot_ be with child.”

“Are you absolutely sure about that? Cannot be? Or wish ya could not be?”

“I am su-” But of course she couldn’t be absolutely sure. And it was written all over Matilda’s wise face that she would know if Djaq lied. However minute, there was a chance that she _could_ be. But no. She wasn’t. Certainly she would know if she was pregnant. “...I am not with child.”

“I have delivered half this bloody village, and Kate has been through it seven times. Now I ain’t gonna mince words, we’re all women here and you’re medically trained. When was your last cycle?”

The thought had not even crossed her mind until that moment. Perhaps she was just so used to being around men all the time that she’d just forgotten about it. But that was ridiculous, any woman of child bearing age would attest to it being an unforgettable experience. And yet...the fact that she had not had her monthlies in nearly two months had slipped completely out of her notice.

“...on the ship _to_ the Holy Land…” She whispered so softly she barely heard the words herself and her whole countenance sank heavily through her boots. “...October.” 

“Aha…” Matilda sank to her knees on the floor in front of Djaq with a grunt of discomfort and the popping of a joint somewhere. “Nauseous? Dizzy? Anything yet?

“...only recently.”

“Mmhm...you gonna tell me again that there’s no way you could be pregnant? I ain’t gonna judge ya, Djaq. Half the babies I’ve seen born were bastards. Happens more than you think.”

“...It’s possible.” Unclenching her jaw long enough to admit it, Djaq immediately clenched her eyes shut and tried to pretend this wasn’t happening and it was just a terrifying dream. She had _just_ made it very clear to the man she loved more than anything that they could have no proper domestic life yet. 

“Will ya let me look at ya? Lay down on that mattress?”

She didn’t even remember agreeing, she barely was conscious of her body moving from the chair to lying flat on the mattress. Slowly, with hands that were trembling, she drew up the burgundy tunic she wore over her stomach. Her perfectly flat stomach.   
“How old are you, Djaq?”

“Twenty-six next week…”

“Oh, well done, snagged yourself a younger man..”

Matilda’s effort to lighten the mood was ineffective and her hands were cold as she placed her palms over Djaq’s brown skin and she sharply drew in a breath through her teeth. Telling herself there was nothing there to find, she focused on anything but the gentle pressure of Matilda’s fingers pressing around her abdomen. 

“And there…feel how that’s firm?” 

Muscle. That’s what it was, the new firmness in her belly that was absolutely not a sign of pregnancy. It was just...stronger muscles where she had never felt them before. But slowly, not daring to look down Djaq moved her hands and placed them in place of Matilda’s. Sure enough it was hard, spongy but firm, and completely different. Terrifyingly different.

“I’d guess, six to eight weeks? Does that line up?”

Nearly perfectly. Djaq wasn’t about to forget that night on the ship in a hurry. That night they both knew shouldn’t have happened and wouldn’t happen again before they married. Still, even now in this terrifying moment when she realised what had happened, she didn’t regret it. 

“Seven weeks.” She confirmed quietly, an embarrassed flush rising up her neck and bleeding into her face, darkening it just a little. She snatched her hands away and covered her face with a soft groan. “This cannot happen…”

Pulling her tunic back over her stomach Djaq sat up, suddenly aware of Kate sitting right beside her. But she did not want the comfort of other women, of mothers, or anyone. She wanted to be alone, she wanted to shrink back behind the walls she had so gradually began to let down and process this news the only way she knew how. By internalising it until she understood this. 

Medicine she understood. Wounds and sores and injuries she understood and could deal with, and yes, once and only once she had delivered a baby but she knew nothing of having one herself. 

“Will is a good lad, he’ll do the right thing by ya.”

And momentarily Djaq forgot her fear in place of surprise as she dropped her hands and stared at Matilda. It wasn’t as if they paraded around hand in hand, and though Much might disagree, they largely kept their romance to themselves.

“How did you kn-”

“I didn’t until just now. But I’ve watched those boys grow up, and I’ve seen ‘im when e’s wiv ya. Besides. It was either Will or Judas Iscariot, and I didn’t think the latter wasyour type.” 

If she had been in a better mood Djaq might have laughed at the comparison between Allan and Judas and then later told her to cut the poor fellow a little slack. But none of that nonsense mattered now. What mattered was that she did not know what to do. What mattered was that she, and Will for that matter, lived a life that was certain only in its uncertainty. Whilst their camp might be warm and secure and their _home_ , it was still in the forest. Perhaps they should have stayed behind in the Holy Land. There, though there might be war, they would have a house, and a whole life in which to raise a family. 

Worst of all was that it was something so completely out of her control that could have, and should have been prevented for certain. She did not like situations she could not control.

Ignoring the nausea that was now not entirely to do with the thing she was so afraid of, and ignoring the helping hands that were offered out to her, she righted herself and stood up. Composing herself, outwardly at least, she forced a smile to the two women, she supposed she should be grateful, it would have been far nastier a shock when she started to balloon outwards if she did not know now. 

“I must go. I must get back.”

xxxXxxx

“Djaq? You’ve hardly touched your chicken.”

“Yeah if you aren’t hungry, I’ll eat it. Much gave me a leg and I wanted the breast.” 

That snapped Djaq out of the far away reverie she was in, not hearing a word of the conversation until that moment as she turned and stared at Allan like he had grown a second head. 

“Excuse me, you wanted what?”

“Of the _chicken_.” Will leaned over and tapped her plate with an amused smirk and a few chuckles sounded around the group. 

“Oh…” Feeling ridiculous where under any other circumstances she would have laughed it off with them, Djaq held out her plate to Allan who all too happily plucked her serving of chicken for himself. “I am not hungry.”

“You should try it though, I used spices from your country like you said. It’s sumac.” Much insisted just as Allan added, through a mouthful of chicken, 

“It’s su-perb too.” 

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said about my cooking.” 

“And _that’s_ the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

She could feel Will’s eyes on her, and try as she did to ignore him, those wide green eyes would not be ignored. She spared him a few sideways glances. They sat beside each other, as they usually did but in that moment she could not have felt further away from him. How could she suddenly tell him he was going to be a father before she even got her head around it herself? 

Her stomach had not settled properly since they had left Loxley, and she had only eaten her piece of bread in an effort to soak up any sick that kept threatening to come up. Now that she knew, it seemed stupid of her not to have figured it out by now. But then why should she?   
As much as it pained Djaq to admit it, Matilda was right, she did not know everything.  
She knew anatomy and how to tend to wounds on the battlefield. She’d been trained as a physician, not as a wet nurse. And while her people may be well advanced in medical sciences, and while she understood in simplicity the progress of conception and pregnancy, she had only witnessed childbirth personally once earlier this same year. 

Just as Will had shuffled closer to her and opened his mouth, presumably to ask what bothered her, Robin joined them by the fire, tossing his bow down and accepting a plate from Much.

She seized the chance and before Will could speak to her, she spoke first.

“I saw Larkin today in Loxley.”

“The cooper? How is his leg?” Robin asked, and for a glorious moment they had returned to their usual conversation.

“If he follows my instructions he should mend soon enough. But I thought you would like to know that the castle has doubled their order for barrels.”

Allan and John who had been in quiet conversation both went quiet and everyone turned to listen.

“Doubled? That only happens when the Sheriff is entertaining.”

“Exactly.”

“Well did he say when the deadline was?”

“The end of the month, but Gisborne has already asked after them so perhaps sooner.” 

“Well done, Djaq.” In moments like this, Robin’s real smile returned, the times when he could put aside his grief and focus instead on forming a plan. He looked around at each of his men, and nodded, “That gives us about two weeks to find out what company he is keeping. It looks like we’re back in business, lads.”


	6. Back in Business

Keeping track of the comings and goings of Nottingham castle was a lot more difficult without a woman on the inside. Marian had been at her best, if in a very dangerous position, as a spy within the castle, and with her help Guy had been a lot less observant to the outlaws antics and schemes. They had all been shocked when it was the man so desperate to win her love away from Robin, who had killed her but none moreso than Allan and Will. The man was cruel, sadistic and far too drawn into his own dark ways to be redeemed but his feelings for Marian had been true. None saw that more than Allan, aside from Marian herself who to all of their shock occasionally defended the psychopath. Under Guy’s instructions and sudden cunning, both he and Allan had risked their own heads to save Marian from hanging as the Nightwatchman.   
Will had been there too in Nottingham that day that Prince John’s soldiers marched to burn Nottingham to the ground while the rest of the gang searched for the Sheriff. Gisborne could have left. He could have saved his own life and fled but he had returned only because Marian refused to go with him.

Will had heard the man actually say that he would rather die by her side than live a life without her in it. The love had been a warped and twisted one, and one that Marian, for all her pretending on behalf of the outlaws, did not reciprocate, but clearly it was genuine. So when Gisborne in a fit of heartbroken rage had run her through as she stood between him and King Richard, it had shocked them all.

Will had been tasked with tailing Gisborne through Nottingham town, while both John and Much lingered around the castle gates, hoping to catch some semblance of gossip amongst the guards that might reveal who the Sheriff would soon be entertaining. 

They had to be especially careful since the Holy Land had failed to kill them, much to the Sheriff’s chagrin and now the price on each of their heads, none moreso than Robin himself, was far higher. That was relatively speaking of course, no one believed that the Sheriff would part with a single coin willingly whether Robin was delivered on a silver platter or not. Since Allan had given away all their entrances into the castle, when he was “Sir Guy’s man”, they had to be far more cunning and clever about their ways. Fortunately, they had no shortage of clever and cunning people.

“Do you understand?”

Will stopped mid step just as his charge turned around and smoothly blended with a group of villagers milling at a vegetable cart. Keeping his hood pulled low over his eyes, Will slowly peered around. He hadn’t been seen, but Gisborne was now in a hushed conversation with one of the butchers that Robin happened to know very well. Judging by the warning prod to the man’s chest and the dark glower that seemed to be the only expression the lieutenant to the Sheriff possessed, it was not a very comfortable conversation.

Will lingered back until Gisborne had trudged off and moved quickly through the crowd, catching the butcher by the arm before he could vanish into his shop. Quickly he produced a small coin purse from his pocket and pressed it into Connor’s hand.    
“On behalf of Robin Hood…” He flashed his tag quickly and the unsettled butcher seemed to relax a little “What did Gisborne want?”

}}}--------------l>

“A party? You followed Gisborne all day and all you got was the Sheriff is having a party? We already knew that.”

“Well I’m sorry the farrier didn’t have more information than Gisborne’s horse needs new shoes, Much. I know there’s people coming from London.”

“ _ Rich _ people.” Djaq added, “The Sheriff does not have poor friends.” 

“I might know what the party’s for.” Allan swaggered in, a stolen horse bearing the castle’s tack following along behind him. “Borrowed myself a ride too.” 

“What are you wearing?” Will raised an eyebrow, as they took in the fine black tunic that Allan wore. Their resident thief grinned in response. 

“Borrowed this too...took advantage of Gisborne being out of the castle. Turns out, about half the staff don’t know that I’m back on the right side.” 

“Strangely enough your double cross worked out for us in the end then.” Robin, chewing the feather from one of his arrows in between his teeth nodded as John took the horse to tie it up. “So what is it?”

“According to a charming chambermaid, it’s very simple really. It’s his birthday.”

“ _ What _ ?” Three different voices said in unison and Robin scoffed loudly. “That’s all? He’s having a birthday party?”

“I think it’s poetic justice.” Much indignantly huffed, “ He ruined Robin’s birthday and nearly got us all killed, let’s ruin his.”

“...The Londoners must be from Prince John’s court.” Djaq chimed in, “You don’t think Prince John himself would…”

“I hardly think the Sheriff would keep that a secret.” Will shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest and drumming his fingers anxiously against the opposite shoulder. “Do you think he’s just had a bad year and wants to make himself feel better or something? I'll bet you anything the presents they bring are worth a king’s ransom.”

“Appropriate choice of words, Will.” Robin, the beginnings of a plan already visible in his eyes, turned back to Allan. “Anything else?”

“Not much, that’s about when the half of the castle that  _ did  _ know, chased me off and I had to swipe a horse for a quick getaway. I do know it’s on January first, and no...Prince John ain’t coming but Djaq’s right...at least one member of his court is.” His bright blue eyes flickered to Djaq for a second and then met Robin’s with a cunning glint. “And it might be our way in…”

“I thought that was just a rumour?”

“Apparently not.”

“Does anyone else know what those two are talking about?” John interjected, jerking his thumb at Allan and Robin who had divulged into a conversation that only they seemed to be aware of. 

Much, Djaq and Will all shook their heads. “Right. Good.”

“Prince John,” Robin began, rubbing his hands together the way he always did when they began to plan a heist “Has a mistress,”

“Ha! Just the one? I’m sure he has many.” 

“Shut up, Much.”

“Has a mistress who is…” Robin trailed off, searching for the right words but the way his eyes drifted to Djaq told them all they needed to know. “Well, of...Arabian appearance…Allan seems to think she will be attending.”

“Say no more, we all know where this is going.” Djaq sounded less than impressed, and Will couldn’t shake the instinctive pang of protectiveness that was entirely unwarranted. She was as or more tough than any of them and more than capable of going undercover. 

“Djaq, it’s our best shot of getting in there.”

“Relax, I do not mind. I merely do not look forward to the dress I expect I will be made to wear.” 

John and Will both chuckled and Will’s gaze drifted back over to her. Even now she was hardly looking at him. Allan said he was imagining it, but Djaq had barely looked at him in three days. When she did, and flashed a smile he knew was not quite genuine, she didn’t meet his eyes and every moment he’d tried to talk to her she slipped away.   
“But really, you think they won’t recognise her? We’re hardly strangers.”

“Oh please. I can change my appearance far more effectively than the rest of you.” Djaq scoffed and even Much nodded his head rapidly in agreement. There was definitely truth to that. Unbidden the memory of Djaq in the low cut golden dress she’d worn last year flashed through Will’s mind. He’d hardly been able to take his eyes off her that night, and if it were not for the dire situation of needing to be completely alert to tackle the strongroom, probably wouldn’t have at all. He’d tried so hard not to give his feelings away that night that instead of just telling her she looked nice, he basically had run away.

“She’s right. Women are great at that.” 

“Besides, when you wear a dress that befits a Prince’s mistress?” Djaq scoffed dismissively, “Most men aren’t looking at your face.”

There was a mock “I resent that!” from Allan and Will stared at her, his jaw gaping slightly as he went to defend himself. 

“Yeah,  _ hey _ , I’m not most men.”

His offense was immediately washed away in relief when she stepped up to him and patted his chest affectionately as she passed. “Yes, my love, you are.” Even then, though her touch reassured him that she wasn’t angry with him for something, she still did not quite meet his eye. There was a playful twinkle in hers though for a moment that made his heart skip a beat and he forced himself not to visibly react to. It vanished as suddenly as it appeared and the colour drained from her face, “Excuse me…” Pushing Will out of her way, Djaq disappeared into the trees in a rush. 

“Do you think she’s coming down with something? If so, we’re all done for.”

“Nah, reckon it’s just your cooking, Much.”

“Jokes on you, Allan, if it was my cooking you’d all be sick.”

“Not sure you’re making the point you think you are, Much.” 

“Are you sure you feel okay? Djaq, you don’t look like it.” Concern laced Will’s voice when finally, twenty minutes later, Djaq returned to the camp. She had regained a little of her lost colour but was still noticeably paler against her usually dark complexion. 

“And more to the point, is it contagious?”

Will turned and glared at Much, just as John clapped him over the back of the head and the former manservant promptly amended his choice of words as he shook the leaves out of a blanket.

“Obviously my concern is for her wellbeing, she knows that.” He huffed defensively. “You  _ know _ what I meant.”

“Do you  _ ever _ think before you speak?” Will rolled his eyes, the annoyance vanishing when he turned back to Djaq as she took the water skin from his outstretched hand and took a few hearty mouthfuls.    
He so desperately wanted her to talk to him, properly talk to him like they used to.   
Before, when it was just harmless flirtation, or whatever Will’s attempt at flirting looked like because clearly it wasn’t very good, they could go for walks for hours and just talk about nothing and everything at once. And then that had grown to something far more real, far more intense and far, far better. He wanted that back and he didn’t understand why now, so recently she could hardly look at him. Will dared not entertain the thought that she was starting to regret choosing him, and just as bad, regret the night that they shouldn’t have had on the ship but nevertheless, it flickered frequently through his mind.

“I’ve felt better, if I must be honest.” Their fingers brushed briefly as she pressed the flask back into his hand and then again came the forced smile that did not reach her eyes. “But no, I promise you you’re not going to catch anything.”

“Are you sure? Bec-”

“Yes, I am sure! When you are medically trained, feel free to disagree with me!” She snapped, and Will exchanged a cautionary look with Allan who stood by. Perhaps her sudden distance from him had nothing to do with Will after all, perhaps she was merely irritable. “Now come on, back to planning a heist. What did I miss?”

“We still have two castle guard uniforms here,” Robin started, “That will get two of us in. We’ll need something to look like Prince John’s guards to escort our Lady Rose,” He gestured to Djaq, “we’ll say you were ambushed on the road and that’s why you’re carriageless.” 

“But you can’t turn up empty handed to a birthday party so we need something that Prince John would give the Sheriff.”

“Yeah, not sure gold and jewels will cut it from the Prince.” Allan added, leaning back against the stone wall as they all began to brainstorm thoughts.

“They would, but we’d need something else. Something the Sheriff  _ doesn’t _ have.” 

“A sword? We could fancy one up with some jewels and give him that.” Will suggested which earned a half hearted shrug from Robin.

“Power.” Little John’s simple one word answer made them all turn and he sighed heavily and began to elaborate. “Well that’s what the Sheriff wants isn’t it?”

“Actually not a bad idea. A personal promise from Prince John.” Djaq added, “We could write something, something he would only entrust to someone close. Even better, a  _ threat _ . They failed to kill the King, he’ll know that by now.”

“Yeah but he’s not gonna buy it without a royal seal.” 

“He won’t need to, Allan.” Robin nodded thoughtfully, “He won’t need to believe it, if by the time he reads it, we’re in and out.” 

“That is easy then. I only give it to him when we need to leave.” 

“And how do we stop the real one? They’re not gonna come through the forest to be ambushed.” Much asked, raising a point that until that moment they had not bothered to consider. “And I really don’t think someone like that would be travelling without an armed escort.”

“I dunno about stopping, but I know a sure way to delay ‘em a few hours. Leave that to me.” 

“Good, that’s your job then, Allan.” Robin clapped Allan on the shoulder. “We’ll get our hands on some armor.”

}}}--------------l>

“Happy birthday.”

“Wha-how did you know?” 

Will grinned as Djaq jumped in shock and nearly toppled backwards off the fallen tree she was perched on when he appeared behind her, lightly placing both hands on her shoulders. She seemed a little more herself now, but still her eyes took a few moments longer to reach his. “I never told any of you, how did you know?” He just raised his eyebrows until she realised. “Bassam told you.”

“Yeah, well...I asked, because you never said. Asked him a lot of things about you.”

Swinging his legs over he dropped down beside her and lifted the golden dress she was busy making adjustments to in preparation for their castle infiltration. The red fabric she had sewn across the bodice fluttered in the wind as a breeze took up. “I have something for you.”

She lowered the needle with a sigh and fixed him with a no nonsense look that he not so secretly loved. “Will Scarlett, this is exactly  _ why _ I did not tell you when my birthday is.”

“Just, shush, okay? You’re gonna like it.” He hoped, at least. He was careful not to assume too much lately when she was so out of sorts. He tucked his hand into the pocket of his trousers and pulled from within a small wooden token he had worked on for the last fortnight, amongst other projects. It was a bird, just the right size to fit snugly in her palm, wings outstretched and if you balanced it right, could stand upright on its carefully carved feet. 

Djaq seemed to melt. Her whole tough exterior faded away immediately as she turned the little bird over in her hands. Will kept his eyes trained on her face, smiling softly as she lifted one small brown hand to her mouth.    
“It’s olive wood. From the Holy Land. I brought some back with me, I know you can’t really understand it when you’re not a carpenter by trade but it’s thrilling to get to work with kinds of wood you’ve never worked with before-”    
He was cut off from his rambling, the only topic he could ever actually outtalk anyone on, by Djaq’s lips, soft and slightly chilly against his. 

“I love it, Will.”

“Turn it over,”   
On the underside of its left wing, with immense practice and concentration he had carved a single S into the wood. It was wobbly, and sharp where it should have been curved, but he had worked so hard to even manage that one letter. On the right wing, in honour of her twin brother, who he knew was the reason she really did not care for her birthday, was a J.   
Robin and Djaq were the only ones of their number who could read and write, which was unsurprising given that both of them had been raised well educated. He could not speak for Djaq’s homeland but in England it was usually only those of upper class, like Robin, and Marian or who worked within those households, who learnt to read and write. Allan however, could read just a little, certainly more than the others and Will knew enough to read his own name but that was all. Writing it was a whole other matter. He understood plans and measurements and that was all he had needed to learn.

Djaq traced the letters with her finger, a smile of affection that might have held a hint of pride too, crossed her face. And then she laughed and leaned over to nudge her shoulder against his.

“What? I know I can’t write, but I tried.”

“No, no, you did well...it is just...well Djaq does not start with a J.” 

Will just stared at her blankly. That was the only letter he knew made that sound. It was like James. 

Evidently the look on his face was comical, because she kept giggling. “What? Of course it does.”

“The English “Jack”, yes it does. But not this one, you dear man.” She reached over and took his hand, rearranging his fingers until he pointed and traced the shape she guided it in. “D. Djaq.”

“But that’s just...what?” Heat rushed to the back of his neck in embarrassment that he’d gotten it wrong. He should have asked Robin to double check, he nearly  _ did _ but changed his mind at the last moment. “You know what? I can fix it.” Bending down to tug the short bladed knife from his boot he held out his hand for the bird. “Let me fix it.”

“That’s not necessary, Will...I love that you did it yourself…oh go on then.” 

She handed it back and he turned it over, frowning in concentration as he delicately placed the blade at the top of J he had carved and carefully mimicked the shape she had shown him. It left a strange swirling thing at the bottom but at least now it had the right letter. 

“It’s why you don’t like your birthday isn’t it?” He asked cautiously, blowing away the flakes of wood and smoothing it over with his thumb.

“Of course. I miss Djaq every day, it is hard to be reminded every year that I get older, and my twin does not.” She sniffled so softly Will almost missed it, and would have done had he not turned at that moment to hand the bird back to her. “He was not yet twenty-two.”

Will’s age then. Djaq so rarely spoke of her brother that they knew only that he had been killed in the Crusades, and that she had run away to fight in his place. That must have meant that both Djaq and Robin were fighting the same war on opposite sides. That was a peculiar thing to think about.   
“Will you tell me about him one day? I’d like to know about your brother.”

“One day.” She agreed, fondly holding her present and smiling at the newly amended initials. “But not today.” Her lips quivered slightly and he watched as she drew in a slow breath and blinked away the tears that had filled her brown eyes. She was ever the tough one. It had taken some time but the walls she had put up when she first joined the gang had slowly been let down over time. Until very recently. To Will’s disappointment he saw the beginnings of walls going back up and he wasn’t even sure she knew she was doing it.  “Will?”

“Huh?” He snapped out of his thoughts, whatever she had said to him completely had gone over his head. 

“I said I do have something I need to tell you.” 

“What is it?”

All at once the companionable, comfortable air between them seemed heavier somehow. Like the weight of something that was going unsaid floated over them. Djaq squirmed a little where she sat, the bird in her lap and left hand twisting anxiously in the fabric of the dress.    
“I…” Her mouth opened and closed, like she could not find the words to articulate what she wanted to say. 

“Djaq?”

“I’m…”

A loud whistle interrupted them followed by footsteps at a run crunching up the slope towards them. John appeared, staff in hand and waving them over. “Travellers on the North Road, let’s go!”


	7. Subterfuge

“Been riding hours to meet ya. Sheriff sent me. You can’t get a carriage this way, you’re gonna have to go up around through Rottsdale.” 

“What’s the matter with these roads?”

Allan’s horse stamped uneasily beneath him as its rider nudged it forward to meet the guards at the head of the escorted carriage. “Ruined past Clon onwards, had a carriage overturn just yesterday after it got stuck, killed a horse and all.”

“Then we go through the forest, it will save time.” The leader turned his horse back, waving to his men before Allan quickly whistled and got his attention back. 

“It’s faster, yeah. But unless you want your ladyship there to be robbed and left with nothing and the rest of you left for dead? I’d avoid it. Outlaws you know. I’m sure you’ve heard of Robin Hood.” 

“Robin _who_?”

“Robin Hood. Most dangerous outlaw in England. He runs Sherwood, we think he gets more men behind him every day.” He held up his right hand, flashing the Sheriff’s stolen insignia on his finger clear for them to see. “Rottsdale way is safe.”

“Why have we stopped?”

The door of the carriage opened and much to Allan’s delight, a dark skinned, elegant woman stepped out, her lips pursed impatiently. She wore a gown of deep red, matching feathers in her raven hair and from her neck to her fingers practically dripped in jewels “Who is this?”

“Larkin Miller, m’lady.” Allan lied as smoothly as if it really were his name and dismounted from his horse, exaggerating a low bow in her presence though she was not strictly royalty. “Sir Guy of Gisborne’s right hand man and envoy of the Sheriff of Nottingham. May I be so bold, Lady Rose, to say that rumors of your beauty have not at all been exaggerated.” It worked, exactly as he had planned and the mistress of Prince John, suitably flattered, smiled and offered her hand for him to kiss. There, on her right ring finger was Prince John’s ring, unmistakably extravagant from the rest.

“Then the Sheriff chooses his envoys well.”

“My lady, this man insists we take the western road through Rottsdale, it will defer our arrival several hours.”

“Then all the better for a grand entrance. If we must go that way, then we must.”

“And we cannot allow your ladyship to be jostled so on a ruined way, or your horses to throw shoes.”

Allan waited, as the company turned and took the other fork in the road before he mounted his horse and allowed a wide grin to spread over his features, upper lip tickled by the scruffy moustache that desperately needed a trim. Finally, when the last guard was out of sight, he pulled from his pocket the emerald encrusted golden ring that only Lady Rose, and now their own double, would wear.

}}}--------------l>

“Fustan laenat dayq jiddaan!” 

Djaq rattled off in rapid Arabic, lapsing back into her mother tongue as she tended to do when she was frustrated. Since arriving in England a few years ago, she had worn a dress exactly once. Then she had enlisted Marian’s help to lace it, but she was not about to ask one of the men, all of whom would have far more difficulty figuring it out than she did. Her arms were beginning to ache where they twisted behind her back as she tugged on the lacings. The gold fabric fell to her ankles, just brushing the leaves on the forest floor and held in place cinched tightly around her waist with a shimmering band that she was struggling to fasten. So it did not too closely resemble the outfit from the Sheriff’s gaming night the previous year, she had removed the wrist length golden sleeves so it opened up across her shoulders and bared her arms and replaced them with a length of scarlet fabric that wrapped around the back of her shoulders and pinned with a stolen brooch to her hip.   
Painstakingly she had tied up the sections of the black wig Robin had managed to get his hands on in rags overnight, and the curls fell in ringlets down her back and strands of stolen jewellery were woven into them. It had been many years since her hair had been so long.  
The whole effect was somewhat more risqué than she was comfortable with but it would work.  
  


“Are you sure you’re alright in there? Will would be very happy to give you a hand-ouch!” Allan’s voice sounded through the door, and she could clearly imagine the glare that Will was shooting him, while someone else chuckled.

“I am fine!” She huffed, at last managing to pull it tight enough and fasten it securely behind her back. This seemed more difficult than it had the last time and she glared down at her own stomach in an accusatory fashion. She wasn’t any bigger yet, her stomach still flat and fit as it ever was so why did everything seem tighter already? 

The moment she slid open the door and stepped out, suitably dressed to impress, Djaq realised what it must have been that made it feel like it wasn’t quite fitting the same way.

Will performed a spectacular double take that might have made her blush if she was feeling any more welcoming to his flirting.

“You...look…” His eyes flickered down and then back up to her hair and she could see in his eyes how actively he was trying not to stare back down below her face again. That was when she realised. It wasn’t her stomach that was changing yet. However subtle it seemed to her, there was definitely a reason this dress fit tighter than it had before, and why she seemed suddenly much more exposed. And then the Saracen did blush, and was never more thankful for the darkness of her skin as heat flooded her face and she tried to pull the neckline up a little. It worked, just a little bit, and, regaining her pride she cleared her throat.   
“See? Most men.” 

“Wow. I don’t mean to stare or nothing, but...wow.” Much’s eyebrows practically disappeared into his hair and even Little John’s jaw had dropped openly. 

“You look nothing like you, well _done_.” Robin grinned and Djaq snorted, very unladylike considering her appearance.

“I am not sure if that’s a compliment or not. Can we get moving?”

}}}--------------l>

“I thought we were expecting more of you. Where are the rest?” 

“You _were_. Your roads are riddled with holes so we took the forest way.” Clad in armor that differentiated him from the regular palace guards, Robin, purple cap pulled low over his eyes and voice disguised in a thick East London brogue, stepped forward to address the guards on the gate. 

“Which was riddled with outlaws. You should consider yourself lucky that her ladyship was not harmed.”

“Her ladyship, huh? Lady Rose from London arriving on foot? I hardly think s-”

Djaq swept forward, her lips pressed tight together in her haughtiest expression as she swept forward and held out her hand. Prince John’s ring glittered on her finger as she dared them not to allow her entry. 

“...Apologies, my lady. They are waiting for you.”

Djaq did not speak a word and turned away, striding ahead with her head held high through the portcullis. Behind her, Robin and Will, each hidden behind low tipped hats and false beards, with stolen swords sheathed at their sides, carried a trunk between them. Beneath the layers of dresses, which was really only one spread atop a few rolled up blankets, lay a bow and quiver of arrows.  
Nerves flittered through her for a moment as the Sheriff of Nottingham, with his ever loyal lackey close at his heels like an obedient dog, marched down the steps to greet them. They had proven time and time again that their disguises usually worked, and this time she had never looked less like herself and had Prince John’s ring as proof. They had no reason to see through this ruse as long as they had never met the real woman.

  
“Lady Rose, I presume.” Vaisey smiled a lecherous smile, his gold tooth glinting in its place. So clearly they had not met in London. His eyes darted first from her face, down her dress and then behind her to the large trunk that her “footmen” carried between them. “Prince John only sent two men with you?”

“My lord, Sheriff...do you not recall that they have a Saracen woman?”

Guy, looking somehow even more miserable and sullen than he usually did, held Djaq’s eyes a fraction longer than the Sheriff had. His hair had grown longer, but no less greasy as it hung close to his shoulders and fell in front of his eyes that somehow had the black iris’ looking even more beady than ever. The woman did not flinch, she did not even look away to divert his eyes and cast suspicion on her, coldly glaring at the lieutenant she opened her mouth and spoke in a smooth, and very English, accent.

“Saracen? I do not know of whom you are referring, but I can assure you, Sir Guy, that I was born in this country. I am as English as you are and I defy you to accuse me of otherwise. The last earl who made similar remarks met an unpleasant end.” 

It was something she had secretly practiced for a year, saving it for just such an occasion. The only disappointment was that she could not turn around and see the looks on the faces of her friends. Now who had the silly voice, Will Scarlett?

Suitably chided, Gisborne clenched his jaw and looked away. The Sheriff, more amused than ever at Gisborne’s embarrassment, laughed gleefully as Djaq raised her hand and displayed the emerald ring there before smiling as beguiling a smile as she could when the Sheriff bent to kiss her hand respectfully. “Prince John sends his happy returns on your birthday.”

“Happy returns, excellent...excellent.” Practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, Vaisey chuckled, “And is that all that Prince John sends?”

“Of course not. I think you will be very pleased with his gift. He is most grateful for your services.” And in a move that was certain to cement her disguise in their minds, she drew a small scroll tied with a golden ribbon from within her breast, tantalisingly waved it in their faces and returned it to its hiding place. “But birthday presents are traditionally given at the party, yes?”

The Sheriff almost looked like he was about to try and snatch it away, and if she had been anyone other than who she was pretending to be, he probably would have done. As it was he simply smiled through his teeth and dipped his head. “Naturally. Well, you are the last of our guests to arrive so Gisborne, you will escort our guest to her chambers. And then celebrations await in the Great Hall.”

The leather clad lieutenant sighed, and with a respectful nod of his head, albeit a thoroughly uninterested expression, offered Djaq his arm. She turned, just the slightest amount under the guise of gesturing for the men to follow her with her “belongings”, and tried to quell the smile that played at her lips when she caught Will glaring daggers at Gisborne’s back.

“I apologise for my remark. There is a Saracen woman amongst a particular band of outlaws. We cannot be too careful.” 

“I will forgive your narrow mindedness, though if I am to expect such treatment here, I should suggest you train your soldiers to look at more than just the colour of one’s skin.” It was almost too easy to maintain a cold expression, though her brain was now focusing more on just translation between Arabic and English to speaking with their accent as well. She removed her hand from Gisborne’s arm when he stopped outside a chamber door and whistled for one of the castle guards.  
  
“You will tell Lady Rose the way to the Great Hall when she is prepared.”

“Aye, sir.” 

“Thank you. In the corner.” As soon as Gisborne had disappeared around the corner, the guard slipped into her room and closed the door. Unclasping the mesh covering over his face Allan tugged off his helmet and grinned at the others.

“Much is posted in the Great Hall, couldn’t have worked out better. And I know some of the rooms his other guests are using.” 

“Djaq...since whe-how did you…” Robin and Will both wore matching expressions of disbelief as they stared at her and Djaq grinned widely. 

“Still think I have a silly voice?”

“Yes, and I still love it. But that was brilliant.” And there was the childlike smile that reappeared sometimes as Will dug through the blankets that filled the trunk and handed Robin his quiver and bow before tossing a few empty canvas bags to the others. 

A quiet gurgle in her stomach quickly snapped Djaq back to reality and before she could stop herself her hand darted to her belly as she fought within herself to resist the nausea that had already proven it was not unique to the morning.

“You alright?”

“Fine, this dress is just ridiculous, I do not understand how women willingly force themselves into these things. I must go, before they think I take too long. Stick to the plan?”

“Stick to the plan.”

They split up. Allan and Djaq in the direction of the Great Hall, while behind them, Robin and Will slipped away to pilfer from the guest chambers of the wealthy before they rendezvoused later. 

Feeling not at all like she belonged but making every effort to look the part, Djaq plastered on her proudest expression as Allan, and one of the castle guards opened the double doors for her. Her heeled boots gave her a little extra height, and chin held high with all the airs and graces that she in reality did not possess.   
The hall was decorated splendidly with garlands and lush fabric, and candelabras and candle stands scattered throughout lit it quite brightly. It was full of finely dressed people. Lords and ladies from the shires of Nottingham, and further afield that she did not know. They were relying heavily on none of the other arrivals from London knowing the Lady she was posing as well, if one of them knew she was an imposter she would have to get out of there before they could make off with any hoard.   
Everyone was laughing and talking spiritedly, eating and drinking without a thought to the starving villagers outside. Gisborne alone was the solitary gloomy figure in the room, blending almost in with the shadows in the corner in which he skulked. Heads turned as she stepped out onto the landing and looked down at them. A few seated gentlemen rose to their feet. The Sheriff, leaning back in his great chair in the centre of the great table, did not rise but lifted a hand in greeting as she made her way down the stairs.

“Ah, my lords and lepers-ladies...the last of our company joins us tonight. From Prince John’s court, Lady Rose.” He whistled to one of the wine bearers and a moment later, no sooner had her feet stepped off the last step, a goblet of deep red wine was in her hand. 

“Thank you.” 

It took but one minute for her company to be swept away by the Earl of Ventnor, a greying middle aged man with a moustache that almost completely drowned his lips. His velvet cap, plumed with the feather of a hawk, hung half over one eye and she could already smell the wine on his breath. 

“Prince John must be pleased with Vaisey’s running of Nottingham to send one so...close to him. Might I add that rumours of your beauty do not exaggerate?”

“You might. But you might be a little more original.” She smiled as charmingly as she could though fire flickered through her eyes in annoyance when she noticed he had not looked at her face once during that sentence. Had she been Djaq the Saracen in that moment she would have punched him, but she had to be Lady Rose, beguiling and charming. It made it easy work to slip the coin purse from his belt under the guise of laughing at a terrible joke and hide it in the concealed pockets she had carefully sewn into the skirts of her gown. 

Feigning boredom with the Earl of Ventnor, she glided about the room, idle chatter that did not interest her in the least with the wives and high born ladies present, and avoiding the lecherous gaze of most of the men, young and old, in the room. Still, it proved her point that a woman could completely alter her appearance far easier than a man. 

The long table that spanned almost the whole length of the great hall was piled high with food that she knew would be thrown to the pigs afterwards when it could so easily feed the whole of Nottingham. There was at least five kinds of meat, culminating with the enormous cut of venison in the centre, and enormous wheels of cheese and loaves of bread. Not at all to Djaq’s surprise, there was very little in the way of vegetables, save for the occasional tomato and bunches of grapes, the wealthy did not seem to feel the need for any variety in their diet. The men at the camp would only laugh at her when she suggested to Much that he throw in a few berries here and there. Although she had to admit the aroma was divine.  
Pitchers of wine floated around the room in the hands of the serving boys and maidens who were ever at work refilling goblets. As she plucked a small bunch of grapes for herself, her eyes drifted to the two guards posted at either side of the doors. Much’s scraggly blonde beard nodded at her just the tiniest amount and jerked towards the left. A table had been set aside, piled high with gifts, expensive ones at that. There were rolls of tapestries, which Djaq suspected the Sheriff would find more use out of burning them in the winter, small chests and bags of jewels and one, rather morbid looking ruby encrusted skull. All that finery and it seemed that she held more power with the falsified note that Robin Hood had written. 

“Yes, yes, nothing I haven’t seen plenty of before.” 

Vaisey’s pompous and rather bored tone made her turn around, the still half full wine sloshing so far in the goblet it splashed out onto her hand. “You did say that tradition dictated gift giving in the celebrations, did you not?”

“I did. But Prince John was very specific in his instructions, and I do not think you would wish me to disobey him.”

“No…” There was clearly no effort made to hide the frustration behind his smile. 

She picked up a lone ring and examined it before placing it back down and looking pointedly at the serving boy that walked past conveniently at that moment.   
“I should cover that if I were you. Such treasures are a temptation in the sight of...the less fortunate. If the look of your servants are any indication you will find yourself a few coins short by the end of the night.”  
  


The irritation was quickly replaced by alarm as the Sheriff followed her gaze and, suitably alarmed at the prospect of losing his valuable wealth, snapped his fingers harshly at the guards that was really Much. “You! Cover that up. And watch those wine boys.”

  
Before Djaq could invent another excuse to pickpocket some unsuspecting noble, she was swept away into, to her great displeasure, the seat directly opposite the Sheriff. It felt wrong, even in disguise to sit and dine and laugh with these people whom they fought every day to evenly distribute the wealth of.   
Amidst a bite of venison, which was suddenly far more delicious than she usually found it, Djaq darted her brown eyes up. Unsavoury though her company may be, the position offered her the right vantage point to keep one eye on the door. She caught sight of Much’s hand reaching behind him where she knew he was knocking the agreed signal on the door. One minute past, then two and then the door was opening and two servants shuffled in, carrying between them another small table.

“What? What are you looking at?”

Thinking quickly, and still fully forming the thought in her head even as she spoke, Djaq stood so fast it made her head spin and effectively turned both Vaisey and Gisborne’s heads back to her.   
“It is unheard of that we wait so long to toast to your health.” A few curious glances along the table turned her way, perhaps surprised that a woman, and one of her stature no less, should propose that. Still, one by one the guests all stood and raised their glasses, and with an exaggerated sigh, Gisborne did too. Vaisey alone stayed seated, leaning back with the air of a king in his throne and gold tooth glinting in the candle light.

“To Sheriff Vaisey of Nottingham!” 

“To me!” 

Over her wine, Djaq chanced another brief glance toward the door and allowed herself to relax as they swung closed again and Much positioned himself once more in front of the door. 

Another hour dragged by, made all the more uncomfortable by the Duke seated to her right whose hand kept lingering on her leg despite the repeated slaps. In contrast to the cold of the woods they were so used to, the heat in the room was nearly stifling, the sheer volume of people coupled with the tightness of her gown that she wore and the hot food was becoming increasingly stuffy the longer she stayed. Hungry as she had been, the now familiar feeling was beginning to well up in her stomach. She needed to get out soon, before she could not suppress the urge to be sick any longer. In a herculean effort to remain in control she clenched her eyes closed and gripped the golden fabric tightly around her knee, this was _not_ the time. That little being that she still hadn’t fully accepted was growing inside her, had _terrible_ timing. 

“My lady? Are you quite well?”

Her eyes shot open. It was Gisborne, whose brow was furrowed in concern, who had spoken.   
Movement at the top of the stairs caught her words before she could speak, and as quickly as they had flickered up, she shot her eyes back to Guy.   
“Perfectly. I have a headache. But now…” She paused and once again drew the falsified note that the Sheriff so desperately wanted to get his hands on back from its hiding place. “With Prince John’s highest compliments…”

Vaisey straighted up in the chair right away and gleefully smiled as she finally handed it over. He paid no attention as Djaq rose from her chair, but Gisborne did. His eyes followed her as she moved away from the table and started towards the stairs. Perhaps he was not so much a fool as he once had been.

“Wait.”

Djaq paused, and turned slowly to watch the expression change on the rotten Sheriff’s face.

_Vaisey,_

_You have proven yourself a loyal ally to my cause. I thank you for your service and offer you one singular promise._

_However, you may have expected it to be a promise of your own choosing. It is not.  
You failed in your mission in the Holy Land. _

_Should you fail me again, it is my promise that you shall deeply regret it._

The gleeful grin steadily faded into an enraged grimace, his face lost a little colour and for the first time Djaq watched genuine fear flicker over the Sheriff’s face for just a moment. Robin had written well.

“It is not signed.” 

“Turn it over, it is signed.” 

He did, and it was. Instead of the royal seal, they had unabashedly decided to sign with their own symbol. Then the fear faded, and the Sheriff shot to his feet as realisation dawned on him.   
“Guard! Grab her!” 

“My lord, I told you!”

“Shut up, Gisborne! She’s alone!”

Feigning fear, Djaq made a run for the stairs and straight into a guard. He seized her, spinning her around and pinning her to him with an arm over her chest and sword at her neck. 

Breathing quickly Djaq summoned all of the saliva she could and spat the moment the Sheriff got close enough.

Undeterred, the cruel man reached up and tore the wig from Djaq’s head. There was a quick sound of footsteps from above her, and a hurried shush that she hoped only she had heard.

“Well, well…oh you thought faking a headache would get you out in time to meet your little friends…Tut. Tut.” 

An arrow whistled overhead, close enough between Gisborne and the Sheriff to slice a lock of hair from Guy and make them both leap back swearing. A second arrow pinned Gisborne’s right sleeve to the table before he could draw his sword and Robin leapt onto the bannister. Gasps and shouts from the guests rang through the room, all unarmed and too frightened to do a thing.“Well you ruined my birthday! I thought we should return the favour.” 

“Oh forget the hostage, just kill the girl already! Kill--she’s smiling, Gisborne she’s _smiling!_ Why are you smiling?”

She wasn’t just smiling, she was grinning. She had a sword to her neck and yet Djaq was grinning. “You really need to check your guards more thoroughly.” She smirked, the false English accent dropping away just as the sword did and Much pushed up his visor. 

Sweeping her skirts up over her knee, Djaq tugged the longknife from the sheath she had strapped to her leg and slowly she and Much started to step backwards up the stairs.

“We’re going to leave now, Sheriff...and _you_ are going to stay in this room until someone out there wakes up to let you out.” 

The arrow that had pinned Gisborne’s hand to the table, clattered to the floor and he drew his sword, starting after them only to be stopped by a second sword digging into his back.   
“I wouldn’t do that, mate.”

The lieutenant let out an almost animalistic growl and rounded on Allan, who had dropped his helmet now, with a ferocious glare. “I am going to enjoy killing _you_ in particular.”

“Feeling’s mutual, Guy.” 

One by one they backed up the stairs. Robin’s perfect aim alternated between the Sheriff and his right hand man until his men were securely at the top of the stairs. 

“Oh. And enjoy your pork.” 

“Pork-po-there’s no pork--” All eyes in the room went to the covered gift table in the corner and just as Will and John barricaded the doors from the outside, an angry scream of obscenities came from within.


	8. Confessional

“John, stop! Stop now!” 

The carriage clattered to a stop on the North Road, its two horses whinnying indignantly as they were pulled to a halt abruptly. Whilst the other had been busy inside the castle, John had hijacked one of the carriages, leaving its driver and two footmen unconscious on the road. The whole of the Sheriff’s birthday loot was loaded in the back, and the moment the last of them leapt on board, the carriage had hurtled through the portcullis too fast for anyone to try and stop it. 

There would be no one in pursuit yet, with any luck, the Sheriff was still stuck in his own great hall to give chase at this time of night. 

The six outlaws were laughing, clapping each other on the back and above all congratulating Djaq for keeping up appearances so convincingly for as long as they had needed. Much was feasting on a hefty piece of the whole roasted pig they’d left in place on the decoy table and Djaq, though clearly still very uncomfortable in her disguise had been grinning as proud as a peacock. She was beautiful, Will had been waiting for a chance to tell her that all night, but never had a moment alone with her to do so without threat of jeering from the others. Perhaps he was more overprotective now, since their night together on the ship, but he could not help how much he hated the thought of his love flaunting around in that dress, that somehow seemed even more revealing than the last time she had worn it, all night, with other men leering lecherously at her.    
His jaw had almost hit the floor when the near flawless English accent came out, none of them had known she could do that, and it just added to the ever growing list of reasons he admired her so much.

He smiled softly across at her, the fresh rush of adrenaline after a successful heist still running through all of them. When she met his eyes this time for a moment there was no hint of anything unsaid suddenly, no awkwardness that perhaps he had been imagining after all. There was only a spark of pure happiness that he loved about her.    
Then, despite the icy winter chill in the air, a hot flush seemed to come over her, though it was often hard to tell due to her darker skin, she kept fanning herself with her hand and, as happened so frequently now, her hand went to her stomach, and she suddenly, out of seemingly nowhere, looked like she was about to be sick.   
She shouted for John to stop the carriage and Will banged on the wall of the coach to be sure the big man could hear over the thundering of the hooves. 

  
The moment the vehicle stopped, Djaq had thrown the door open and bolted from it, gathering her gown around her knees so she could run. She barely made it into the tree line before she doubled over and the awful sound of retching carried back to them.

“I’m not being funny right, but something has  _ got  _ to be wrong with her. That’s been every day for the last two weeks.”

“Yeah...you’re not wrong.” Will clapped Allan’s shoulder as he shuffled past him and hopped out of the carriage. 

Each horrible moan of sickness sent a pang through him. She was clearly ill, and he’d known for weeks there was something she was not telling him, but he hated it. He hated feeling so helpless like she didn’t even trust him enough to tell him what was wrong with her, he hated that Djaq was clearly suffering something and he couldn’t help her because  _ she _ was the doctor to them.

He walked up quietly, trying not to cringe as another bout of sickness made her whole body shake. She was kneeling now, one arm around the tree beside her as she leaned against it for support. Slowly, without saying a word to ask if she needed help, he knew the answer, he just placed a hand on the bare skin of her back that was revealed near the shoulders and gently rubbed down to the small of her back. At first she tensed at his touch, shivered beneath his cold hand but was quickly overtaken by another wave of nausea and didn’t bother to shoo him away. Quickly Will unclasped the purple cloak that had served as part of his disguise and swung it over her shoulders instead. She must have been freezing in that dress. 

“Djaq?” He said softly as she slowly seemed to recover. “Don’t say you’re fine, you know no one is buying that.” Footsteps sounded behind them and he turned as Robin approached.

“I’m sorry, Djaq, I know you’re ill. But we need to move the carriage. We have to get this back to camp.”

“Robin, give her a-”

“No.” Djaq straightened up, pulling Will’s cloak around her shoulders. She did not look at all well. “It’s okay. You go, move it closer. Will and I will walk back and meet you there to unload it.” 

“You sure you want to walk?”

“Quite sure, I think Little John’s driving will make me sicker.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide and nervous looking. “And we should talk.”

“Right. We’ll see you back at camp.” Robin nodded and warmly clasped Djaq’s shoulder. “Brilliant job, Djaq.”

}}}--------------l>

_ “This craftsmanship is good.” _

_ “See? I’ve got a life here.” Will shot his father a glare, tossing down the rag he’d used to wipe his face clean of the mud they used as camouflage. Pleased though he was to see his family again for the first time in nearly a year, could they not have just come to visit? Not to kidnap him? _

_ “Yeah well, what that tells me is you could make a  _ decent _ living in Scarborough. _

_ “Dad, I’m an outlaw! I stand up for what I believe in.”  _

_ “Are you saying I don’t?” _

_ “You let the Sheriff cut off your hand!” The words had left his mouth before Will really could think about them and he was uncomfortably aware of the rest of the gang staring wide-eyed between the bickering family. Even Luke looked shocked and leapt to their father’s defense right away. _

_ “That was to save me and you!” _

_ “I know…” Will sighed, not wanting to look at the hurt expression on his father’s face. “I didn’t mean that.” _

_ “Yes you did.” Dan shook his head, and clenched his jaw in the same way that both his sons did then they were angry and bitterly Will huffed and turned away. _

_ “Robin, can you tell my father that I’m a grown man and I can make my own decisions?” _

_ “Well a real man listens to advice, Will…”  _

_ “Thank you, Robin.”  _

_ “But Will does have a life here. And you should see it before you take him away from it.” _

_ Will rolled his eyes, and turned and marched away, leaving his father in conversation with Robin. Was it too much to hope that his father would drop the subject after seeing the good they did for the people? Knowing him, yes. _

_ “All I want is the best for you, Will. You could have a real life in Scarborough.” _

_ Will stopped mid step and turned to glare at his father as he caught up with him. _ _   
_ _ “I have a real life here.” He was acutely aware of Allan walking on his toes behind them as if Will couldn’t see him there, and the looks that John and Djaq were exchanging in his peripheral vision. “I’m not leaving the lads.” _

_ “But you could leave your flesh and blood. That’s nice, son.” _

_ “Yeah, I wouldn’t have said that, Will…”Allan clearly had not meant for Will to hear that comment but Will shot daggers in his glare all the same. _

_ “You  _ know _ the other option was hanging.”  _

_ “And I’m sayin’, that you have a choice now. Come back, settle down, take over the trade.” Dan’s one remaining hand rested on Will’s shoulder, equal parts a peace offering and a comfort. Of course Will missed his family. But this wasn’t what Will thought was the right thing to do. He shrugged off his father’s hand and took a step backwards. “And maybe let me see a grandchild before I die, your old man isn’t getting any younger.” _

_ Snorts of poorly contained laughter drew both father and son’s attention away for a second. Both Allan and Djaq, unusually for her, hadn’t been able to hold back their laughter and both immediately tried to hide it behind their hands. Even John was looking everywhere but at Will as if to pretend he wasn’t listening in. The Saracen turned her head, attempting to hide her smiles behind Allan’s shoulder, and instinctively Will’s eyes followed her for a moment before Allan’s knowing expression betrayed him and his dusty brown eyebrows waggled suggestively.  _

_ Heat crept up the back of Will’s neck, though the rest of the men were well aware of his feelings for the Saracen woman, his father did not need to know of them but too late, he saw the glimmer of understanding flicker through Dan’s grey eyes when he followed Will’s line of sight.  _

_ “Well, if that’s your priority.” Will huffed, putting his personal and altogether irrelevant desires aside, and clapped his father satirically on the shoulder. “It’s a good thing you’ve got two sons. Marry Luke off when ‘e’s old enough. We’re done here. I’m going to get some rabbits.”  _

_ Unhooking his belt that holstered his two axes, the carpenter’s son dropped them on his bunk, grabbed a bow and a handful and arrows and walked off in a moody huff. The joy of seeing his father and little brother again was tainted now. He heard footsteps running to catch up with him and turned as Luke, much taller now than last they’d met, reached his side. _

_ “You shouldn’t have said that to him.” _

_ “I know, Luke. But he shouldn’t expect me to up and leave my life and run to Scarborough.” _

_ “Scarborough isn’t bad, you know? Living with Aunty Annie is better than living in Loxley ever was. Besides, you aren’t an outlaw there.” _

_ “Do not start this, Luke. I’m not going back with you.” Once, perhaps, he had been close. He had nearly taken the Gisborne’s money at Allan’s persuasion and run to Scarborough back when they thought this would all be over. He never regretted turning around and running back to the camp. If anything, if he and Allan had arrived any later, all their friends might well have been dead. _

_ “Fine. But Dad wished you were there every day.” The newly seventeen year old sighed and for a minute the brothers walked in companionable, if somewhat awkward, silence through the forest. “So what is it you do out here?” _

_ “Help people. Make a difference. Generally get in the Sheriff’s way. Shush…” Will threw out his hand and pushed his brother back as a rustle in the bushes caught his attention. He dropped to his knees just as a dusty grey rabbit hopped from the bush, snuffling around in the soil. _

_ “Can I do it?”Luke hissed, his eyes lighting up as he reached for the bow. “I’m a better shot now. Can I do it?” _

_ His sour mood forgotten for the moment, Will’s lips twitched into a grin at his not-so-little brother’s eagerness and after a second, handed over the bow.  _ _   
_ _ Luke, young though he was, had never been one to take his time about anything. Which was why he hadn’t had the patience to learn the art of the trade from their father like Will had. Bows and arrows, and small carvings was all Luke had taken the time to pay close attention to, it had always been Will set to take over the business when his father could no longer work.  _ _   
_ _ True to form, Luke did not take his time to shoot either. Perhaps it was simply living with Robin Hood that had made them all infinitely better shots than they had been before, but Will couldn’t help the exasperated sigh when Luke fired straight away and inevitably missed. The rabbit, spooked off, raced off into the trees. _ _   
_ _ “Better shot than what? A tree?” Will clapped Luke over the head with his palm and snatched back the bow. “If you’re in charge of dinner, we’re all going hungry.”  _

_ “I only wanted a go.”  _

_ “How many times have I told you to be patient?” _

_ And just like that the familiar brotherly relationship was restored. It felt as if no time at all had passed between Will running off with Robin into the woods while Dan took Luke and moved to Scarborough and now. As if the last year had never happened at all.  _

_ “If you two are quite finished scaring off all the animals in the forest?” _

_ The familiar Arabic lilt made the Scarlett brothers turn around. Djaq stood there, three sizeable trout hanging from the string she held up in her right hand. “Next time just check the traps first.” She smirked, and jerked her head for them to follow back to camp, leaving Will smiling softly to himself behind her back as she headed off. He stood again, gathering the arrows back up as Luke dusted the dirt from his knees.   
_

_ “So how did you end up with a Saracen on your side?” _

_ “Uh, weird story, Luke, but basically we blew up the mine, freed some slaves and...well she wanted to stay.”  _

_ “Don’t tell Dad I said this, but your life is a lot more exciting.” Luke grinned and added, none too quietly, “There’s no girls in Scarborough that look like her.” _

_ “Well of course not, Djaq isn’t English.” _

_ “Her name is Jack? Is that a girl’s name in the Holy Land?” _

_ Now it felt like they’d never been parted. Luke was older, and taller, but he was still the same little brother that no matter how much Will loved, would always be irritating. “No. I mean, how should I know? If anyone would, it’d be Robin, wouldn’t it?” _

_ “Well she’s pretty anywa-hey, stop doing that!” Luke grumbled, ducking out of the way as Will clapped him upside the head again. _

_ “Then ogle girls that are your age. She’s far too old for you.”  _

}}}--------------l>

“At least it waited until the end of the night. That could have been a lot worse.” 

“What waited?”

“...the...nausea. What did you think?” 

Djaq’s small hand slid into the crook of his elbow, to Will’s pleasant surprise, as she leaned up against him, using his height for support as they walked. 

“I didn’t get to say yet, but you look…”

“Yes, so I have heard all night-hold on…”

Will paused a few steps ahead as she slipped free of his arm and turned as she retrieved the knife strapped to her leg again. 

“I do not know how Marian managed these dresses, especially out here.” She grumbled and he watched with a raised eyebrow as she, none too carefully, cut a long slit in the fabric from her knee to the hem, exposing one slender leg as she hiked the dress up and tied it higher off the ground for ease of movement. That was one of things he loved the most about her. She could be, and was, unapologetically feminine and somehow at the same time completely unladylike. It made him wonder if she had always been this way, and if not, what she had been like as a younger girl back in her homeland.

“Nice legs.” He said before he could stop himself, and then immediately cringed when Djaq laughed at him and nudged his shoulder playfully. 

“That sounds like Allan talking.” 

“I know, I am so sorry.” 

They chuckled, and for a moment it felt normal again, comfortable and easy as they joked and laughed together like they used to.    
“Oh please, it isn’t like you haven’t seen my legs before. I am hardly offended.” 

Will was suddenly grateful for the darkness that had fallen, he could feel his blood rushing to his face again and hoped she couldn’t tell how red he had probably turned. It had taken all his self control not to have given himself away on the ship weeks ago every time he even looked at Djaq, and even then Much had continued to give him strange looks through the rest of the voyage. He was very careful not to think about her, about them, but how exactly could he prevent it when she spoke so carefree?

She was laughing, she could definitely see his embarrassment.   
“Oh shut up.” He huffed, and nudged her in return which just made her laugh more.

“I did not mean that, you transparent man. But it is charming how flustered you are.” The smile on her face seemed to fade slightly. “But...since we somehow ended up there…”

“What do you mean?” This time Will was the one who stopped, his heartbeat beginning to quicken a little as he dared not assume the worst that she had changed her mind after all.

“You...remember right?”

Had Djaq not suddenly looked out of sorts, Will might have laughed out loud at the question, as it was he raised an amused eyebrow down at her and feigned ignorance for a moment. “What? Remember that thing that we’re supposed to pretend never happened but are very glad it did? It does ring a bell, yeah.” The look on her face wiped all trace of mirth from his and he swallowed nervously. “Wait you’re not...you’re still happy with me, right?”

“What? Yes, of course I am happy with you. You know I love you, Will Scarlett.” And her small cold hand on his cheek calmed him down in a way that only Djaq’s touch could. “It is not that…”

“I thought you were avoiding me or something. I knew I was being stupid.” 

“Perhaps...but perhaps I was a little bit. No. Not perhaps, I  _ was _ avoiding you.” 

Djaq’s hand slid down into his own, intertwining their fingers affectionately as she slowly began to walk again. Her skin was cold to the touch and yet still somehow sweaty and clammy. “But I owe you the truth, and the truth is that I am not sick.”

Will sighed, “Djaq, your stubbornness is not endearing when your health is-”

“Shut up.”

Will shut up obediently but he clenched his jaw tensely, and let her talk.

“I was telling the truth that nothing is contagious, so Much need not fear I suppose that is a small mercy…”

“How can you  _ know _ it’s not contagious?”

“If you would shut up and let me get more than one sentence out, Will, you might know!” Djaq snapped. She was holding his hand so hard her nails had started to dig into his skin. “I am…” And there her resolve seemed to falter and her words fell away. Gone was the confident, tough, and borderline sultry woman she had been tonight and in her place stood a nervous, sweaty mess of a woman that made Will remember she was in fact human and not some perfect ethereal angel among them. Her huge, doelike brown eyes were wide when she looked up at him, and he saw the fear behind them that he’d only seen once before. It was the same look she had that on that dawn in the barn three months ago when they all faced their seemingly certain death, the same soft vulnerability that Djaq never liked to show, right before she had kissed him.

He bit his tongue, fought the urge to ask if she was alright because clearly she was not. He gave her the time and space she needed to say whatever it is she was not saying.

“Will you promise me something first?” She asked at last. 

“Of course, anything.”

“That you will not despise me for what I am about to say.”

And then Will really did laugh a little in disbelief because that was so utterly ridiculous a concept he could not help himself. “Wow, it must be a big deal.” He sobered quickly when her expression remained humourless and gently tugged his hand from hers to place both on either side of her face as he looked down at her. She was so small, even with the heeled shoes she barely came up to his chin. “Djaq.  _ Saffiyah _ . Nothing, short of possibly murdering my family, could lessen you in my eyes. Even if you do regret what we did before we’re married, that’s fine, my love. Really.”

Her hand came up to cover his left one and they stayed like that for a few moments before he saw her swallow a lump of nerves and nod softly.

“Will...I am with child.” 

At least that’s what he thought she had said. But she couldn’t have said that, because she couldn’t be. 

“I-huh?” Was all he managed to, less than intelligently, get out. “You’re what?”

“Pregnant.”

Alright, so she  _ had _ said that. The cold of the night was long forgotten the longer he just stood there staring at her, like his body could not get colder than his blood had begun to run. “You’re…” Words had escaped, his vocabulary suddenly dramatically condensed as he struggled to form a coherent sentence. “You’re what? How?”

The fear that a moment ago been all over Djaq’s face was gone and replaced with mild irritation when she just raised an eyebrow at him. “Do I really have to explain to a grown man how babies are made? You were very much there.”

“No. I know  _ how _ , but...how?” He wasn’t an idiot, he did know the biology involved. For starters he’d grown up in a one room home and he had a little brother. Slowly it seemed to sink in and he took a step backwards from her to run a suddenly sweaty hand over his face. “Are you….are you sure?”

“Yes. I am now. I did not know at first.” She seemed to hesitate and did not try to close the gap he had suddenly put between them. “But unfortunately I am very sure…”

“But it was only once? How was once enou-” A whole flood of emotions was raging through him at once and Will had difficulty navigating at best one or two at a time. There was a part of him that might have been thrilled at the thought, and it would be a downright lie to say he’d never imagined a family with her. But this was not the way he’d expected it to happen. But then again, nothing about his life in the past few years had been what he’d expected.   


“Please be calm, because I am terrified enough for the both of us right now so I need at least one of us to have a clear head.” 

His right hand rubbed the back of his neck and slid up into his hair, gripping a fistful at the back of his head, “Well you’re gonna have to give me a minute or two, Djaq, this is a little bigger than I was expecting--are you really sure?”

“ _ Yes _ . I would not tell you if I wasn’t sure.”

Silence fell between them as he stared at her in a whole new, strange way. His mouth opened and closed a few times dumbly, reaching for the words to say and falling short. She just stared back at him, bundling the cloak further around her shoulders against the chill, and chest rising and falling rapidly. She was anxious, and rightly so, but now, suddenly he didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t even summon the movements to take her in his arms and just hold her when usually that was his every impulse.    
A high pitched whistle pierced the night. The nightingale call they’d all learnt. They were close to the camp, it was one of the gang trying to find where they’d got to but still neither Will nor Djaq looked away from each other.    
“We should…”

“...Get back, I know.” Djaq finished quietly.


	9. Nottingham

She should not have told him yet. She should have waited for a better time. Now as she lay in her bunk flat on her back, wide awake and listening to the men snoring around her, she found herself swallowing a lump in her throat. Will wasn’t asleep either, she could hear him rolling restlessly in the bunk above her. What else could she have expected? She’d just sprung a whole, drastic change on him, of course he would need time to get his head around it. Perhaps by then, she too would have accepted it, but now the last thing she wanted to think about was the tiny thing beginning to grow in her womb. She’d protested how many times to how many offers of marriage back in Palestine? She was twenty-six, even by English standards she was much older than most women when they married, even Marian, who was only a year older than Will, was considered unusually old to still be unwed.   
It wasn’t that she did not want that life at all. She did, with _Will_ but not this way. Not as a fugitive and an immigrant, living in the forest and running from the law. Djaq groaned quietly and ran her hands over her face, wiping away an unshed tear from her eye. They’d likely already be married if they had stayed with Bassam, and perhaps she should have insisted upon it. Then perhaps they both might have been happier about this.   
  
In her heart she knew he would be alright when he got it into his head. Will was a born family man. He was fiercely protective and loyal of all of them, not only Djaq. They had all seen the way he quite literally leapt to Little John’s side in his darkest moments upon that night that had changed them all, cradling the hysterical giant as though their roles were reversed and it were Will and not John himself that was the father figure amongst them. 

_“John, stop it! Stop that!”_

_“It’s a good day to die! Let me go! I want to die. Let. Me. Die!”_

_“Robin! What do we do?!”_

_“Great, that’s one who hates himself, two who are in love with each other and then there’s bloody old dependable Much.”_

_“Much, not_ now _!” Tears sprang unbidden to Djaq’s eyes, now no longer ones of joy that Will returned her feelings, as they all stopped and stared at John, trying desperately to push their barricade out of the way and rush headlong into a suicidal fight. He was so silent and strong that sometimes they forgot that he was a man who had lost so much and never complained, no one checked on Little John because Little John never seemed to need checking on._

_His strength seemed to have failed him now in his hysteria. That cart would have moved without a problem if John had been in a fit mental state but now he collapsed, loud cries wracking his body, into Will’s arms who had flown to his side._

_“Just leave me! There is no point without my son! There is no point without my wife!”_

_“And you definitely won’t see him again if you charge out there alone.”_

_“John. John! Look at me. Look. At. Me.” Robin insisted, clasping John’s shoulder firmly, making him lift his head from Will’s shoulder long enough to make eye contact. “Your son_ knows _you, he loves you! You have your family right here, do_ not _forget that.”_

}}}--------------l>

A loud, garbled shout came from across the makeshift cabin and Djaq propped herself up on her elbows and quickly glanced over. Robin once again had begun to shout in his sleep, one arm thrashing around so much he was close to throwing himself off of his bunk.   
“Marian!” 

A sharp pang of sorrow and pity shot through her and immediately she rose up. Much was beginning to shift in his hammock but Allan still snored soundly as she made her way between them and over to Robin. Catching his arm which seemed to be flailing an invisible sword, she gently, and with a grunt of effort managed to roll the man back over onto his side. Silver tear trails glistened on his face. She hadn’t the heart to tell their leader that he still cried in his sleep.   
“Master?” Much had woken, scrambling in alarm to get out of his hammock, his instincts to protect Robin from years in the Holy Land seemingly kicking back into gear.

Djaq shushed him as John rolled over on the lower bunk with an enormous bearlike snore. Never had she wished more than she were already asleep. If anyone was awake later than Little John, it was a battle for sleep. “Go back to sleep, Much, he will be fine.”

“No chance of that.” Much groaned, falling back in his swinging bed and pulling his cap down over his eyes. 

Her eyes having already adjusted to the dark, and navigating by the streams of moonlight that shone through the ceiling of leaves and mesh, Djaq fumbled in their natural cold storage for the sleeping draught she kept readily made for exactly this purpose. Dipping a cloth into the cup she carefully dabbed it over Robin’s forehead and held it under his nose until he naturally breathed it in. Looking at the mess of a man, whose spirit was forever darkened by what had happened in the Holy Land, Djaq suddenly felt lucky. Frankly it was a wonder that Robin had not shot Gisborne already, he’d had so many chances to do so, he could kill a man at a hundred yards if he desired. 

Robin had been right on the ship. She and Will were incredibly lucky that they had not lost each other the morning after they found each other, they were all supposed to be dead. If Allan had not returned at exactly the right time, they all would be. Then the desert should have killed them but by God’s grace it had not. So many times over they could have lost each other, one wrong move in a duel and they were gone. The gang would undoubtedly all give their lives for each other, but it was Marian who had lost hers in the end. It was Robin whose heart was left irreparably broken. How difficult it must be for Robin to see them happy together when he could not have the same. Only a fool could think anyone would ever replace Marian to him. Djaq stepped away and returned the sleeping draught to its place, running a tired hand over her own face as she returned to her bed.

“Djaq.” Will’s soft voice stopped her before she lay back down and she straightened and met her beloved’s eyes level with her own. There was so much there, even in the darkness she could see him wrestling within himself. 

“I know.” She said when he did not speak further and reached up to place a hand on his cheek, wisps of messy deep brown hair tangling in her fingers until she pulled away. 

}}}--------------l>

_“Dan! Stop!” Robin hissed as the gang spread out and moved in the shadows between the stalls trying to get close enough to stop Dan Scarlett from speaking out, and still remain unseen by the Sheriff who stood there, his sick grin twisting into one of displeasure as Dan argued._

_“This isn’t the pestilence! That’s not what she’s got!”_

_“Shut up!” The Sheriff shouted, and Djaq’s heart began to race as she saw the soldiers moving amongst the crowd towards Will’s father. She ducked beneath a banner and reached out a hand wildly to grab at the former carpenter’s cloak as he passed. She missed, and the thin fabric slipped between her fingers._

_“I’ve shut up for you once before, Sheriff!”_

_“Dan!”_

_But Dan was not listening, he paid no heed to the frantic outlaws trying to reach him in time. The last, tense conversation Will had had with his father had cut too deep for him to stop._ _  
_ _“It cost me my wife, my hand and the respect of my son, so I’m not shutting up anymore. Now why are you saying it’s the pestila-”_

_The collective gasp that ran through the whole township, interspersed with a few screams, was deafening, and the dying scream of Dan Scarlett carried high above it all for a few, pitifully short seconds. And then Will was lunging forward and screaming so loudly it sounded like he had been stabbed too. Allan rushed past Djaq and in haste she followed, running towards the grief stricken outlaw of their company who had just become an orphan._

_“Will! You can’t go up there!”_

_“I’m gonna kill him! I’m gonna kill him!”_

_The crazed look on Will’s face was terrifying to witness as he clawed at the back of Little John’s coat while it took the combined efforts of John, Robin, Much and Allan all to keep him from flying towards the Sheriff in blind fury._

_“It’s suicide, Will!” Allan shouted. Barricades were already being carried through the streets, soldiers looking for anyone else that dared protesting, they were far too outnumbered for justice to be taken._

_“I don’t care!”_

_“Will!” Djaq cried, throwing out her hands to him and somehow he seemed to respond to her. He turned just enough, tearing his wide, shocked green eyes away from the Sheriff who was retreating behind his portcullis, and to her. She flattened her palm over his heart, and found it beating so wildly it felt like it might leap out of his chest. Holding his eyes steadily and unblinking she silently shook her head at him. It was like calming a terrified animal. The fight seemed to fly out of him so suddenly at her touch that the men let him go, releasing him into Djaq’s apparently effective charge as Robin hurried out instructions._ _  
_ _Will looked so young, so terribly boyish, his jaw quivered as he held her eyes and then suddenly, not unlike a rabbit, his gaze flew past her. He pushed her away and she turned to watch as he barrelled over to Luke, who stood silently crying and staring at the puddle of blood that was all that was left of their father, and took him into his arms._

_Her heart shattered for them and she wanted to reach out to Will more than ever. But there was work to be done, a sickness that needed tending to and the people of Pitt Street could not wait or they would starve behind the barricades. She listened to Robin, her eyes torn between the plan they formulated and the grieving brothers. A softness, a heartache even that was new and different came over her as she looked at Will. Though his eyes were rimmed with red, he’d not shed one tear yet and there was something unnerving about that. Young Luke had dissolved into sobs and Will just sat there, rocking his brother and staring into the distance with a frightening expression that she’d never seen before on his face._

_“We need to move! Go!”_

_“Of course…” Djaq tore her gaze away and focused again on the task at hand. Pitt Street, little Jess, they had to be the priority now. There would be time later to comfort them and honour Dan Scarlett. John followed behind, herding Will and his younger brother in the right direction as they ran to beat the barricades to Pitt Street._

_“What are you doing?! Will!” Djaq realised too late what he was doing, had taken the holding the open door as chivalry which ordinarily it would have been. But then the door slammed shut and a key turned in the lock. She ran back and slammed the door with her palm, the antidote to the poison still in her left hand. “Will! The sick are getting better!”_

_“My dad isn’t getting better!”_

_The grief mad man on the other side of the door was no longer the gentle Will Scarlett they knew and Djaq’s heart sank through her boots. He had already done it, he must have done it or he wouldn’t have locked her and the antidote away._

_“Will! Don’t do this!” She kept shouting, pounding on the inside of the armory door with her fists in vain that someone would hear her. But he’d run off already driven by only vengeance now. She understood that. She knew what revenge felt like, and she knew it never gave peace. But she could not tell him, she could not reason with him now._ _  
_ _If the Sheriff died now, as he must be knocking on death’s door if Will had indeed poisoned him already, then Nottingham would be razed to the ground, and Will would never forgive himself, she knew him well enough to know that so much guilt would destroy him._

_Screaming in frustrated Arabic she kicked on the door, which did nothing but stub her toe painfully._

_Five minutes past, then ten and then twenty and Djaq lost count. She’d tried to lever through the lock with the tip of her sword, tried to bash it in with a heavy helmet but to no avail. Ironically, it was Will who was the lockpicking expert among them._

_Finally, a sound of hurried footsteps outside made her leap up from her seated position on the floor._

_“You locked her up?!” That was Allan’s angry voice, and suddenly the lock clicked and the door swung open. “What the bloody hell were you thinking?”_

_The Will that stood there was completely different to the one who had appeared all but dead inside when he threw her in. His cheeks were streaked with tears and his eyes, every bit as wide, were glistening with fear all of a sudden and not madness. A good portion of Djaq wanted to punch him in the face for locking her in but his jaw was shaking with an unsaid apology and yelling at him could wait._

_“Robin drank the poison to snap him out of it! Hurry!” Much shouted, and then they were all sprinting off down the corridor._

}}}--------------l>

“I’m not being funny but, what is the point of a bejewelled skull? This is...creepy…” Allan pulled a face, spinning the ruby encrusted skull that had been gifted to the Sheriff around in his fingers. “What do we even do with this?”

“Pry the rubies off it, sell them off and donate the coin.” Robin answered, in the midst of strapping his quiver to his back “Extra watches today. The Sheriff will be out for blood. Have you armed the traps, Will?”

“First thing this mornin’ when I checked the stores. They’re real low, Robin, there’s no way we can make all the drops.” 

“Right...then two of you need to go to Nottingham, get what flour and bread you can and take care of the handouts there.”

“I’ll go.” Allan raised his hand, tossing the ornamented skull back into the hideaway beneath the floor that Much was busy sorting into piles. 

Djaq seized the chance and nodded too, “I will go too.” She rose from her seat on a stool and fetched her hooded cloak, although part of her was loath to leave their warm camp and make the trek to Nottingham.

“Are you kidding? Sheriff will have everyone looking for you.” Will objected, much to Djaq’s chagrin and she shot him a sideways look. “It’s not even been twelve hours.”

“No more than he shall be looking for the rest of us.” She defended, subconsciously tugging on her tunic as if it would hide the belly that wasn’t even there yet. She would have to adjust her clothing before long if she expected to be able to hide this from the rest of them. They might be men, and largely ignorant about how a woman’s body worked but they were not stupid. “I will go to Nottingham.” 

“Good. Will and I shall go to Nettlestone first and see what we can stretch. Much and John, finish going through last night’s haul and check the animal traps. I want everyone back here as close to noon as you can. We’ll have some wealthy returning travellers today.”

}}}--------------l>

“So, care to share why you can cut the tension in the air with a knife?” 

“I do not know what you mean, Allan.” 

“You and lover boy, trouble in paradise? Wouldn’t have anything to do with your throwing up every meal would it?”

Djaq rolled her eyes and paused to punch Allan in the shoulder, which only made him chuckle.   
“There is nothing the matter, and nor is that any business of yours.”

“I find that’s the thing with living with your mates, everything is everyone’s business. Come on, you went for a walk last night and by the time you came back Will could barely say two words to anyone.” 

Allan had a good heart, for all the snark and sometimes pettiness he showed, beneath it all it was out of affection for his friends. Most of the time. Certainly he was the most prone to selfishness out of them all, but she knew him well enough to know he had truly changed for the better. And it wasn’t unlikely that he would have been the one to notice anything amiss between her and Will, the two of them were brothers in all but blood. She pulled her hood further down, shrouding the top of her face in shadow and as one Djaq and Allan turned to avoid the attention of two wandering guards from the castle.   
“I know you mean well, Allan, but there is nothing to concern yourself with, I assure you.” She hissed as they let themselves into the disappointingly quiet market district. There were barely any stalls offering what meagre goods they had, but that was no strange sight in the winter when crops were scarce and animals dying of starvation and cold.

“Alright, alright. Far be it for me to intrude.” 

Allan’s voice trailed off as Djaq paused, distracted momentarily by a frightened cry for help from around the corner. Allan whirled around and they locked eyes for a second before breaking into a run, following the cry. 

“Please! I have done nothing wrong! I have paid my rent!” 

“Two weeks late. Sheriff wants an example set.”

“Please! We were told there would be leniency made for an advance on the bread-” A loud crunching of fist of flesh cut off the sentence followed by the sneering of a guard.

“He was in a good mood then. Sheriff’s changed his mind. Says you’re to be whipped for tardiness.”

Skidding to a halt at the beginning of the street, Djaq’s lips pursed and a hand flew to the sword at her side. Two castle guards were forcibly hauling the miller from his home, paying no heed to the shouting of his wife from indoors or to the man’s protestations. A crowd of onlookers had already gathered, peering through windows and out of doors but not daring to argue or face the same fate. Robin had been right. The Sheriff would be looking to punish each and every person he could find until he got his hands on the outlaws themselves. 

“Reckon it’s to draw us out!” Allan hissed, placing a hand on Djaq’s elbow and pulling her to the side out of the line of sight of the approaching guards. “They’ll be more of ‘em waiting.”

“Does it matter? This does not warrant a whipping.” Djaq snapped back, glaring fiercely at Allan until he sighed and let go of her to draw his own sword. “Good.” She huffed and flattened her back against the side of the house, lying in wait for the moment to strike.

Ten seconds they stood there, out of sight until the moment the guards stepped out in front of them. She darted to the left, leaving Allan poised to strike the guard on their right, and whistled loudly. They whirled around, too busy restraining the struggling miller to draw their weapons quickly enough to block a well aimed kick to the ribs of one and the hilt of Allan’s sword coming down hard on the side of the other’s helmet.

Distraction granted, the miller fell free to his knees on the ground and scrambled away quickly. One guard toppled unconscious to the dirt, closely followed by the second who landed hand on his face when Djaq nimbly vaulted off his back. The grin Allan and Djaq shared was short lived when four others appeared from behind walls, amongst the curtains of fabric that hung on display. 

“Here!” Allan shouted, tossing the miller’s wife a pouch of coins from his belt and madly waving Djaq over. “I told you so.”

“Shut up, Allan. Split up?” 

“Split up.”

They split, each drawing two guards after them. Her cloak billowed out behind her as Djaq ran, the adrenaline of the chase flushing her cheeks as she clambered over a stall and seized a length of green cloth from the line above. Hurling it behind her she gained a few precious seconds worth of distance ahead of her pursuers as one cursed and flailed behind the cloth. A plan began to formulate in her mind as she darted down an alley and flattened herself face first against the wall. Her brown cloak fluttered to the ground, blending neatly with the pile of sacks to her right. Not a moment too soon, a thundering of footsteps rounded the corner and, oblivious to her camouflage, charged right past her and around the next bend.  
The Saracen stole a peek from beneath her hood and grinned. It was the first time in weeks that she had completely let herself forget that she could not be doing this sort of thing forever anymore, all that mattered was that she had found the delivery for the castle’s kitchens right in time. Pulling a knife from her boot she cut open the nearest sack of flour and began filling the smaller, more manageable bags that hung from her belt. She filled four, evenly strapped two on each hip, before deciding that any more would inhibit her movement too much and darted out to look for Allan.

A carriage rolled past just as she reached the main road and, assuming it to be the Sheriff, Djaq quickly turned her face away. She was not fast enough and caught movement inside as the passenger turned and looked directly at her. It was certainly not the Sheriff. The dark skinned woman within the carriage was visible but for a moment before the carriage rolled out of sight, but she had leaned forward to get a better look at Djaq just as Djaq had done the same. There was no doubting who that was.

“ _That_ would be the real Lady Rose.” Allan appeared, popping out from behind a pillar just as the coach trundled out the gates of the city and confirming Djaq’s suspicions. “She didn’t look pleased.” 

“And from the look she gave me, she has heard everything about last night.” 

“Which means so will Prince John before long.” 

  
  
  
  



	10. Will You Tolerate Me?

“People of Clon! Listen well. Your Sheriff knows that you have been receiving help. Unlawful assistance that robs the working man of his pride to earn food for his family.” 

“I’d like to show him some unlawful assistance…”

“Shush, Much.” Will hissed, elbowing the former in the side and edging closer around the woodpile to get a better look as Gisborne rode up and down the centre of the village, proclaiming his message to all and sundry in the shire.

“Robin Hood, and his men, are criminals. Stolen bread is far more bitter than bread well earned. So we give you, generously, this chance to earn your way yourselves.” The outlaws ducked down, pressing themselves as close to the wood that served as their hiding place as they could as the black stallion trod heavily right past them. “There is a price on their heads. A generous price, to offset what you perceive as the generosity of outlaws. From this day forth, one hundred gold coins to the citizen of Nottinghamshire who provides information leading to the arrest or death of Robin Hood’s men. That is one hundred gold coins for  _ each _ outlaw.” 

Will and Much exchanged a wide eyed look with each other and then frantically around at the villagers whom they could see, and who knew they were hiding somewhere close. That would feed any family for years.

“And  _ three  _ hundred gold pieces, for Robin Hood himself. A further three hundred should that lead to his execution.”

“You don’t think they’ll tell him we’re here, do you?” Will murmured quietly, resting his hand on the hilt of his axe at his belt in case they needed to make a quick getaway. 

“No...they love Robin, they’d never give us up…then again...that’s a lot of money.” 

“That’s his game then. Parade around all the villages, offer a reward and hope they turn against us, rat us out.” 

“I suppose it’s more of an incentive than cutting out tongues. Think we can get out of here without them seeing?”

Will slowly moved to peer over the top of the woodpile and quickly ducked back down again as Gisborne turned his horse in their direction. “Only if we take the long way. That or wait them out.”

Footsteps behind them made Will and Much both jump and whirl around, hands on the hilts of their weapons. Sighing, Will lowered his axe and raised a finger to his lips to silence the young girl that had come upon them. She had two missing baby teeth and long scraggly blonde hair. 

“You’re with Robin Hood.” She said, a little too loudly, “One of you brought us some venison yesterday. Mum said I should say thank you.”

“Yeah, great, you’re welcome. But right now you should say nothing.” Much hissed, frantically trying to wave the girl away before one of Gisborne’s men noticed her talking to a pile of wood. 

“Are you playing hide and seek?”

“More like hide and not get killed.”

“Yeah, something like that.” Will elbowed Much and they exchanged a slightly exasperated look when the girl dropped to her knees and crawled between them. “Gisborne is looking for us, and we need to hide.”

“I’m very good at this game.”

“I am sure you are, now hush.” 

}}}--------------l>

“Matilda said he said the same in the rest of the villages too.” 

“You don’t really think they would give us up?”

“I dunno. Money is a bloody good motivator.” 

“You would know, wouldn’t you, Allan?” 

“Oh bugger off, Much.” 

“That’s enough, both of you.” Robin chided, rolling his eyes as he dropped two, particularly skinny dead rabbits onto the forest floor where John, who had been sharpening a skinning knife, immediately picked one up by the ears. “We all knew the Sheriff would pull out all the stops after the Holy Land. That’s why we moved the camp. We’re not going to stop helping the poor just because they might turn us in.” 

“Agreed.” Will nodded and unconsciously his eyes drifted over to Djaq. They hadn’t spoken alone for two days now since she had come clean to him about what was wrong. He knew now why she stole away in the morning and rushed off after she ate, he knew why her dress had suddenly seemed far more revealing than it had the last time, and why she kept to herself more. 

“Good. Because the Sheriff is panicking. And when people panic, they make mistakes. We can still use this against hi-Djaq?”

Everyone’s eyes turned to Djaq. She had paled suddenly, and not in the nauseous way that was becoming so familiar. Will shifted on his seat, automatically leaning towards her, his eyes widened slightly. Then she leapt to her feet, her eyes brimming with frustrated tears that Will knew were out of her control. 

“Are you alright?”

“I do not know.” That was the most honest she had been with all of them in weeks, but just as Little John got to his feet, even before Will could, she had turned and rushed off into the trees. Four more pairs of eyes turned to Will, and as much as Will did not like it, Allan was giving him a particularly suspicious look. 

“I’ve heard women can be moody, but sometimes I forget she  _ is _ a woman.” Much shook his head, staring bemusedly off into the woods.   


“Will? Do you know what’s been wrong with her?”

“Yeah. I do, I’ve got it.” He murmured, ignoring all their looks and hurrying off after Djaq into the trees.

“Djaq! Slow down, where are you going?!”

Djaq didn’t stop, she kept running, slowing to a jog as she scrambled down a slope in the direction of the creek and other than a frustrated hand waving in the air, ignored Will’s calls. He wasn’t sure she even knew where she was going. Banking left around a tree he sped up, each one of his long strides worth two of hers and caught up to her easily. 

“Hey…where are you running?” He reached out and caught her arm as she tried to move past him. She pulled away almost immediately but the fight or flight instinct seemed to go out of her and instead of fleeing, she just turned her back and let out a frustrated yell that was nearer to a warcry than anything. 

“I don’t know, Will!” She rounded on him and he stared at her with huge surprised eyes as a tear, which she so rarely let slip, slid down her cheek. “I don’t know how I feel, I don’t  _ know _ what I’m doing and I don’t know what is the matter!” She ran a hand over her face right away, wiping away the wetness that had appeared there with an annoyed growl. “And I don’t know why I’m crying.” 

He took a cautious step towards her as though she were an anxious horse he was trying to calm. Her breath was coming fast in short gasps, gripped in a fit of emotion she wasn’t used to feeling. When she did not step away from him he moved close enough to take one of her shaking hands in both of his. “Love, it’s alright. Just breathe, you look like you’re about to faint.”

The breath that Djaq released was full of tension and not at all the calming deep breath he’d meant, but who was he to tell her how to act right now. He could see in her eyes though that it was exactly what she had said that scared her so much. She didn’t know. This was completely unknown to her and, more importantly, out of her control. Djaq liked to be in control. 

“You’re allowed to be emotional.”

“Yes! I am! We live in the forest. We spend almost every day cheating death and taxes, this isn’t the place for a child, which I don’t really know what to do with anyway-and I won’t be able to hide this for long.”

“We will f-”

“I am not finished!” Djaq snapped, and wide eyed, Will obediently closed his mouth and let her have her reaction. She stood there, arms crossed stiffly over her chest and trembling in a way that had nothing to do with the winter. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, fumbling for words until finally she closed it and shrugged “Alright, I guess I was finished.”

“I’m sorry.” He stepped closer and reached out his arms until with a shaking breath she moved into them. “I’m sorry we weren’t patient. I’m sorry you’re scared, I know how much it takes to scare you. I’m sorry that I...didn’t react well when you needed me. It was a lot to hear.” 

She fit snugly beneath his chin and slowly he felt her arms rise and loop around his waist. Vulnerable was not a word that anyone would use to describe the fiery, passionate Saracen woman, but now she had let her guard down again Will felt once more that he had been trusted with a secret. “We will work it out. Don’t forget you’re not doing it alone, my love.”

“How? We don’t have a life that is even safe.”  “Neither do the people of Loxley. Or Nettlestone. Or Nottingham. It’s no safer there when you think about it.” 

“I know you are trying to help, Will Scarlett, but that is not working.” 

“My point is...it’s not having a cottage that makes ‘em safer.” Will added, wrapping his arms a little tighter around her, his chin resting lightly on her hair. “It’s having people like us, and like Robin, to help.”

“...That was better.” Her voice came out muffled as she pressed her face into his chest and then immediately recoiled. “Would it truly kill any of you men to bathe just a little more often?” 

Will smiled to himself and took a step back so she could look him in the face easier. “We’ll manage. But if it’s what you want, we can go somewhere and start again. Maybe Scarborough? Even back to Bassam if it’s what you want.”

“If there is one thing I  _ am _ sure of, it is that I am not spending four more weeks on a ship while I am pregnant.” She had calmed down a little, even if he could still see she was absolutely mortified, her emotions for once were written all over her face. She reached up one hand and wiped her cheeks, “All because I was foolish.”

“You’re saying ‘I’ a lot...it’s just as much my fault. We will manage, somehow, my love. I promise.”

It wasn’t so long ago that Will would have been thrilled when he heard Djaq say she was carrying his child, and still a part of him was. He’d longed to build a life with her for as long as he had loved her from afar, and then from near. Perhaps he should have convinced her that they should stay with Bassam, then they would be wedded by now and a baby wouldn’t have been so frightening a development.    
“How long until you uh...until it’s here?”

She went quiet again for a moment as he too counted backwards in his head. 

“About six and a half months.” Then he watched as her hand very hesitantly touched her belly, still flat beneath her tunic while other parts of her, not unnoticed by him, were certainly getting bigger. “Soon enough I will not be able to hide it.”

“Do you think we should tell the others?”

“No!” The reply was so adamant, and her eyes so fierce for a second that she looked and sounded just like her regular self. “Not yet. You already are treating me differently, I do not want it from them too.” Djaq huffed and stalked over to the stump of a fallen tree they were using for firewood just as the heavy cloud cover that had been looming threateningly rumbled with thunder and spots of rain began to fall.

“Course I’m treating you differently, there’s two of you.”

“No. No, there is  _ one _ of me, and one tiny little sapling that probably isn’t even the size of my finger.” Just like that, the frightened, sad woman she had been a moment ago was gone in a flash and replaced by the stubborn and fiery one he had fallen in love with. He had seen enough pregnant women to know that her moodiness was only just beginning. 

“You promise me, Will Scarlett, that you will not treat me like an invalid. I can still do everything I ever could.”

“I…” How was he supposed to promise that. He was already panicked enough about her safety every time they were in danger, now he would worry about the safety of their child too. It was all well and good while she did not look pregnant, but when she could not run, or fight, or even ride a horse the same… “I promise. For  _ now _ .”

“Good enough.” 

“I still…” He started and cut himself off, colour rising to his cheeks as he changed his mind before the thought was fully finished. 

“Still what?”

“Still think we should get Robin to marry us.”

A flicker of something flashed over her face that made Will blink and quickly look away. It was unwarranted really. She was pregnant, they had no secrets from each other anymore, and somehow he was a red as the day he had discovered she was in fact a woman. 

“Are you asking me?”

“I don’t know, are you saying yes?”

And though he had no reason to be frightened that she would refuse him, though they had bigger things to worry about, Will couldn’t look her in the eye for longer than a moment.

“I am not saying anything if you are not asking.” 

Will released a long unsteady breath and scratched nervously at his stubble. How quickly the tables had turned. It was always the plan, they’d just gotten it a little backwards lately. He took a few steps forward closer to her as the creek, half frozen over, babbled by behind her. “Bear with me, alright?” His heart thundered loudly in his chest and without taking his eyes off of the Saracen he slowly lowered himself to one knee before her. The rain was trickling steady now but neither of them seemed to notice or care. 

“What are you doing?”

And for one bizarre moment he thought he had madly misread the moment and Will’s smile faltered. Then he remembered. She was not English. They still did things differently that the other found strange. Relief flooded his face and Will’s eyeline dropped to the forest floor with a quiet laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t know how you do it in Palestine. It’s a chivalry thing…so I’m told.”

His green eyes drifted to her stomach, just below his eye level and her hand that was floating near it. When he looked back up, her eyes had softened, and brimmed with tears once more. Women confused him at the best of times, they were in for an interesting ride now she was with child. 

“I know I have nothing to give you. And neither of us have anything in the world. I don’t even have a ring yet, but...I’ll get you one…” 

“Will…”

“It’s your turn to let  _ me _ finish.” Djaq laughed, that beautiful happy sound that he’d been missing for weeks and Will nearly forgot what he had to say. His palms were sweaty despite the cold and even though he already knew the answer, he’d never been more nervous. “Before we left Bassam’s house, I asked for his blessing and he gave it...of course he probably wouldn’t have if he knew you would be with child before we even got back to this country, but he is a good man. I can’t promise you a house, or even that we’ll live safely. But I can promise I will give my life to keep you safe, and that our children-”

“Child. Just the one for the moment please.”

“Sorry, our  _ child _ ,” Will corrected, “Will be loved. Saffiyah, you are my bird that I would fly a thousand miles to get back to. Would you be my wife?” Somewhere in his spiel his own eyes had filled with the tears that sometimes came frustratingly easy to him and suddenly they were back in that barn, on her Kalila and Dimna night only three months ago when Will had never been happier, and at the same time distraught at all the time they had lost. 

She said nothing for a long, painful moment, just smiled down at him with teeth so white that they stood out shockingly against her dark skin. Then she knelt to his level, placed her hands either side of his face and drew him in for a kiss so tender it sent a pleasant shiver up and down his back. Familiar warmth filled his belly and his hands found her waist, fingertips dancing daringly over her belly where a little bit of Saffiyah and a little bit of Will was growing. 

When at last Saffiyah drew back first, it took Will an extra few moments to open his eyes.    
“Is...that…”

She snorted, so startlingly un-femininely that Will laughed, “Men are so blunt. Yes I will marry you, Will Scarlett.”

With a relieved laugh Will got to his feet, bringing his newly betrothed with him and in a joyful rush of emotion picked her up and spun her in his arms. Of course little would change in their life right now when they married but it was more than enough for him. She beamed up at him when he lowered her so her toes reached the ground again and he was just about to lower his head and kiss her once more before a loud crunch of leaves caught his attention. He sighed and raised his eyebrows. 

“You can come out now, Allan.”

A loud cheer sounded from up the incline and Allan A Dale appeared from behind a tree. A broad grin spread over his rough and unkempt features, his goatee now grown a little too long so he more resembled a forest dweller than ever. He ran down to them, beaming ear to ear as he clapped Will heartily on the back. “Congratulations!”

“How long have you been there?”

“Only about a minute, saw Will kneel down and thought I better wait.” 

Not long enough to know why then. That was a small mercy. Unable to wipe his own smile from his face as Allan pulled Djaq into a warm hug, Will grinned and clapped his friend on the shoulder. He’d never been able to pinpoint the moment in time when Allan had withdrawn his vying for the woman’s affection, but it was a relief to no end to see that Allan was truly happy for them.

“Please do not tell the others yet. I am not sure it would do good for Robin.” Djaq exchanged a look with Will, her hand sliding into his.

“My lips are sealed.”

}}}--------------l>

_ “I’m just saying, a woman likes to be told when she looks pretty and I think she should dress like a girl more.” _

_ “Last time I checked, Djaq was not a regular woman.” _

_ “Oh like you didn’t notice, you practically ran away from her, you coward. If we have to compete for the same affections, I’d rather have a fair fight.”  _

_ “Can you just shut up?” Will glared and tossed the coin filled bag a little harder than necessary into Allan’s arms as they unloaded the carriage. Allan grunted as he caught it and cast a glance over his shoulder to make sure the woman in question was not within earshot. “It’s a stupid idea for either of us anyway.” _

_ “Why? Robin’s got his girl.” _

_ “Marian does not live with all of us.” _

_ “You’re not seriously bowing out? You absolutely fawn over her when she’s not looking. We can all see it.” The money bags piled up, and their awkward conversation came to a merciful interlude when the other four returned to gather a second load. John hoisted his staff across his shoulders and one side at a time Robin and Allan strapped ten bags to it.  _

_ Djaq, who had changed out of the golden dress that Will could not stop thinking about more than he cared to admit and back into her regular trousers and tunic, stepped up, holding out her arms until Will had piled as many bags as she could carry into them. _ _   
_ _ “Sure you don’t want to swap?” _

_ “I am just fine, Will.”  _

_ Yes, perhaps Allan had a point and maybe Will could have been a little more expressive when he saw her dressed up like that but then that wasn’t like him. He didn’t want to risk the friendship he had with her when she almost inevitably would not feel the same. And he wasn’t like Allan, who was perfectly comfortable flirting. But truthfully he’d just been struck dumb when she dressed like that, and a substantial part of him had been quite jealous at the thought of her walking around like that.  _

_ “There’s nothin’ to bow out  _ of _ , Allan.” He muttered when the others had taken the next load back to the camp and it was just the two of them left behind to finish the rest. “It’s not a competition.” _

_ “I’m just saying...confidence would do you good.” _

_ “Not if it’s  _ your _ kind of confidence.” _

_ “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying I’m that shallow, mister high and mighty?” _

_ “I’m saying you don’t have any tact.” _

}}}--------------l>

“Wine?” 

Will blinked and snapped out of his faraway thoughts as a flask was waved in front of his face and Allan sunk down onto the rock beside him. “Thanks.” He flashed a smile and raised the wineskin to his lips, taking a hearty gulp and passing it back to his friend.

“Just because the others don’t know doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate, right?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“Sure I guess? Mate, you just netted the woman you’ve been mad for for...what two years? Crack a smile, Will.”

So he chuckled a little as they passed the wine back and forth, the dying embers of the campfire still flickering in the pit. Robin and Much across the room were exchanged in hushed conversation, and Djaq had enlisted John’s help in preparing poultices under her careful watch for her medicine bag.    
“I mean the Sheriff is rotten to the core, but I’ll hand it to him, he gets good wine.” Will mused after a moment, smacking his lips together as the rich liquid warmed his throat. 

“Which is kind of ironic considering he cannot taste it.”

“What?”

“Yeah, heard him talking about it once in the castle, doesn’t have the palate.” 

They drank in companionable silence for a few minutes, Will’s gaze drifting between his newly betrothed and now mother of his child, and the dying fire that kept them all warm. 

“You sure you don’t wanna tell ‘em? I think Robin would only be happy for you.”

“No, I think she’s right, and it’s a little more complicated anyway.”

Allan snorted as Will passed the wine back to him and raised a sandy brown eyebrow “What’s complicated? You say “hey, Robin, can you hitch us today?” 

“Everytime you say something like that, I’m just more amazed at how you aren’t married.” Will scoffed, shaking his head lightly and rubbing his hands together over the coals. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Intriguing.”


End file.
